Crossroads
by Kavery12
Summary: Sanity, safety and everything familiar is left behind when Lucifer escapes from Starfleet prison, set loose from the depths of living hell to wreak mad, merry death on those who wronged him.
1. The Chase

I do not own Star Trek 2009, Supernatural, NCIS or NCIS: LA.

To the faithful readers: Welcome back! You're a patient, crazy, lovely lot to come back after many months…sorry about that. I could spiel on about my life issues, but that would bore you. It's not why you're here. New story, new twists, new characters, that's why you're here. Hang on for the ride!

To those just discovering the _Impala 'verse_: Hooray! I hope you enjoy this new story. I try to post a chapter a week. Just FYI – I'm fond of cliff-hangers. You were warned.

* * *

_Enterprise_

The USS _Enterprise_ was humming sedately through space on her way home from what her captain would call the perfect run. It hadn't been boring and it hadn't been the usual brand of hair-raising terror. Protecting the pretty ambassador had had just the right spice of excitement without any death or serious injury and Captain Jim Kirk had managed to look heroic enough to steal a kiss from said ambassador at the end of it all.

Yes, he thought as he stretched in his command chair, it had gone very well indeed. The bridge was humming quietly with the pleased buzz of a relaxed but attentive crew and Kirk was turning his attention towards the disturbingly tall stack of PADDs requiring his attention when Uhura responded to the trill of her console and Kirk paused, his stylus hovering over the requisitions order as a strange ripple of dread ran down his spine.

He shook it off, frowning at himself. There was no reason for that dread. No one had wanted him dead in months. No one had gone missing lately. He knew exactly where the usual culprits were – _Los Angeles_ was in space dock for a cosmetic refit (a too-influential diplomat had complained about thin carpet), _Washington_ was babysitting a science expedition in the stable section of the Neutral Zone and the _Impala_ was on a routine run back from the inter-universal star gate.

No reason to feel queasy at all.

But he set the stylus down and watched his communications officer with the intensity of a hawk.

She frowned, eyebrows drawing together in mild confusion. "I beg your pardon?" Uhura asked, her voice puzzled. "No, we haven't been in contact with the _Impala_. We're on our way to Starbase 3 to pick up a cargo of agricultural supplies." Uhura glanced up, waving her captain over as she continued speaking. "No, Admiral, we haven't. What's this all about, if I may ask?"

Kirk picked up the spare earpiece she handed him as the rest of the crew tried desperately to hide the fact that they were blatantly eavesdropping. "Admiral Cartwright," Uhura mouthed silently.

"Admiral," Kirk broke in. "How can the _Enterprise_ help you today?" he asked with careful civility. No point in resurrecting their feud, especially when both sides had been working so hard at keeping the peace.

There was a crackle of silence in which Uhura swallowed hard and Kirk felt the worm of dread wriggle from his spine into his stomach. "Admiral?"

Cartwright sighed. _"Best to wait until I have the Impala on the line as well," _he growled, stress making the old man's voice uncharacteristically deep_. "Lieutenant?"_ A soft murmur from the communications lieutenant on his end of the line carried through and Cartwright cursed. _"What do you mean, they're still out of range? Hell. We need to get started on this now. Keep trying to reach them. In the meantime, we're going to carry on. Audio only – it increases the security of the connection."_ Kirk heard Cartwright take a deep breath. _"Lucifer escaped,"_ he finished bluntly.

Kirk felt the breath whoosh out of his lungs and his hand gripped the chair below him so hard it creaked.

"He _what_?" Uhura croaked, ignoring protocol in shock.

Kirk marshalled his thoughts. "When and where was he last seen?"

"_Three hours ago in his cell,"_ Cartwright snapped. "_The fools over at super-max thought that even though Lucifer had already succeeded in the impossible, there was no way he'd make it off Pluto. Thus they delayed informing the Admirals. Pike's busy pulling them up on charges of criminal negligence and sheer stupidity as we speak. I contacted you as soon as you came into range. I've been trying to keep the trail warm for the past hour but I'm having the damndest time figuring out where to start. It's as if some cosmic being just yanked the bastard straight out of his cell."_

Without prompting from her captain, Uhura's long nails clattered over her keys, rerouting power from Chekov's secret tri-D chess game and boosting her Scotty-issue communications console to reach the _Impala._

"_Enterprise_ will be at the prison in," Kirk glanced over to Spock, whose sharpened hearing had caught the whole conversation.

"Four point six hours at warp 9," the first officer replied calmly.

Kirk repeated the information mindlessly, already thinking six steps ahead. He cut off the conversation with Cartwright, who promised to send all the evidence via data-pack. "Spock, I want that data analyzed as soon as it arrives, is that clear?" Kirk snapped. The Vulcan stared calmly at his captain, silently reminding the volatile human that he needed to be thinking clearly in order to have any chance of catching up with Lucifer at all.

Settling into his command chair with deliberate care, Kirk accepted his first officer's pointed look and scowled unseeingly at the viewscreen. "I had hoped super max would hold him," Kirk muttered. "And he manages to bust out three hundred and seventy two days after we tossed him in there. Uhura, do you have hold of the _Impala _yet?"

The pretty lieutenant commander shook her head in consternation. "They're not answering my hails and they should be in range," she reported, her voice carefully professional.

"Damn, damn, _damn_," Kirk muttered. "Uhura, get Bones up here please."

Spock had just started in on the evidence analysis when Dr. McCoy stormed onto the bridge. "Jim, please tell me this is one of your twisted, juvenile attempts at humour," the doctor growled. "Do not tell me that sociopathic, moralistically bankrupt, sadist _bastard_ is on the loose."

Kirk rubbed his forehead, feeling the headache building already. "All right Bones, I won't."

"Oh hell," McCoy breathed, his face paling. "_Impala_?"

"MIA," Kirk replied shortly.

"_Washington?_"

"Babysitting – that's actually a good idea. Uhura, tell Cartwright I want Gibbs on this as well. He's got more investigative experience than we do and he's damn devious to boot." The pretty communications officer nodded. "Chekov, I want you charting the _Impala_'s course trajectory. We'll leave the investigation to Gibbs and start tracking down Winchester. Again."

"Why does this always happen to them and not us?" Kirk wondered to himself once they were under way.

* * *

_Impala_

"Sam, what do you mean the damn pixie ate through our communications lines?" Dean demanded, temper making his voice loud and tone short.

Sam glared back, grease smeared across his cheek. "I mean your bastard brain-child born of a drunken night with alpha shift just chewed up our communications array like you inhale cheeseburgers! Go try and catch it before it decides to snack on your precious command chair!"

Dean bit back a snappy retort. Technically it had been Sam's fault. Sam shouldn't have let him get into it with alpha shift. He vaguely remembered a drinking game, a dare and something about Tinkerbell. When he had woken up with a pounding headache the next morning, a sparkly little winged pixie-robot had been darting around pulling Sam's girly hair and generally making a nuisance of itself. The thing had been funny but harmless until its little metabolism got revving and it discovered a distinct taste for fiber-optic cables.

Good thing nothing drastic was going on in the universe today, he reflected grumpily as a team of pixie-hunters dashed by him, chasing the pest with home-made butterfly nets. It would be awkward if they had to respond to an emergency like the one on Beta 9. Alpha shift had been on break until their particular brand of expertise was required and like the good kids they were, they had showed up on the surface promptly.

Every last one of them had been dressed like zombies, fresh from their secret themed dance party in the _Impala_'s hold.

The memory of Admiral Komak flushing a bright shade of bluish purple made Dean chuckle in spite of his irritation.

* * *

Six hours later, the pixie was furiously beating her little fists against an old-fashioned glass mixing bowl. Shari had cleverly set up a simple trap baited with delectably frayed fiber-optic cables and when the pixie knocked over the arm holding up the bowl, she had been trapped under the bowl.

Sam, Dean, alpha shift and most of the bridge crew heaved a huge sigh of relief. At least the pixie hadn't demonstrated any of alpha shift's more…drastic prank tendencies. The Repli-Tribble incident* caused a fresh shudder to rip through Dean's heart and would for years to come. "Dean, I want it deactivated," Sam said militantly.

Alpha shift squeaked in dismay and the pixie froze. Dean was about to say "Hell yes," when he made the mistake of glancing over. Bionic, brilliant blue eyes swam with fake tears, the pixie's wings drooping. The only thing that could possibly be sadder than the chastened pixie was the collective power of alpha shift. Sam had clearly been passing on his puppy dog talents.

Dean blew out a resigned sigh. "If you can figure out how to tame the damn thing, it can have a glass bubble. Once it demonstrates that it is useful and non-destructive, I'll _think_ about keeping it, understand?"

They bobbed their heads in understanding as Sam scowled. "Come on," Dean muttered out the side of his mouth. "At the very least, they'll be distracted and you can fix the communications system without them getting into the acids again."

"_Dean, if I could have a word?" _Ellen's voice was syrupy sweet and Dean briefly considered making a break for the life pods. The pixie had torn through every corner of the ship, including sick bay and engineering. Both Bobby and Ellen were pissed at him after Sam had told them that the security tapes damned Dean for having the pixie idea in the first place.

Sam wiggled his fingers in gleeful farewell and Dean cursed his traitor brother. "Coward," he tossed lamely, hoping against hope that Sam would be shamed into accompanying him.

Sam rocked back on his heels, an unholy grin stretched across his face. "Realist. No point in going down with the ship. You're the captain, after all. Have a good chat with Ellen!"

Dean snarled at his brother and stomped off.

* * *

The pixie fiasco had been corralled, the irate CMO appeased and the ship was in the middle of a quiet night shift when Sam's battered console shrilled a strident alarm. Sam, who used night shift to get his sensitive work done, frowned and picked up the call immediately. "USS _Impala, _Commander Winchester."

"_Winchester! Where the _hell_ have you been?" _Gibbs growled, tension rippling through the veteran captain's voice. That tension caused the hairs on the back of Sam's neck to stand on end.

"We had communications trouble," he explained, "but nothing we can't handle. What's wrong?"

"_Get me your captain and yesterday!"_ Gibbs snarled and sensibly, Sam realized the anger wasn't directed at himself.

"Dean's on his way. Do we need to go to red alert?" he asked.

"_Yes."_

Sam sucked in a breath and punched the code into the console.

Alarms blared, lights flashed and the silent ship sprang to action, ensigns and commanders alike tumbling out of their bunks, the engines automatically revving up to full throttle. The infirmary immediately poised for lock down and Dean's booted feet hit the floor running.

He preceded Ash onto the bridge by a bare nanosecond, the pilot hot on his captain's heels. "Sam, situation," Dean barked.

"Don't know, Gibbs wants to talk to you first," Sam replied crisply, tossing his brother a private earpiece.

He watched Dean's face close off as Gibbs talked. Sam knew. Oh hellfire and brimstone, he knew. There was only one reason Gibbs would keep Sam out of a conversation like this.

Lucifer was on the loose.

Dean's stone-hard expression only confirmed Sam's worst fears. "Understood," Dean growled. "You keep investigating. We'll find the _Enterprise_." He paused when Gibbs clearly disagreed. "Yes, I know that's what Jim told you before he disappeared but everyone knows one of us goes missing and the other does the rescuing. No, last time doesn't count. You didn't bail us out. _Enterprise_ bailed us out and you bailed them out. Big difference. Thank you, Sam tells me I'm a moron on a regular basis. No, it doesn't seem to be sinking in. I will not wait for the _LA. _They can catch up. _Impala _out." He cut the connection.

"No one on this bridge is stupid. Everyone knows what's going on," Dean snapped, striding to his command chair. "Strap in, fire it up and get ready for a rough ride. We have an _Enterprise _to find."

* * *

_Washington_

When Captain Winchester hung up on Gibbs, the _Washington_'s bridge crew held their breaths. The only people who dared to try and hang up on Gibbs were, well, Kirk and Winchester.

The silver-haired captain clenched his jaw for a moment before forcibly relaxing. "Stupid, idealistic idiots," he sighed. That was as close as Leroy Jethro Gibbs would get to admitting that the stupid idealistic idiots had been right. "McGee, what've you got?"

The computer genius shrugged. "Nothing." Gibbs glared at his navigator, who wilted under his captain's heated glower. "Seriously boss, I've got nothing except a mild sulphur residue which both Ducky and Abby confirm as nothing more than sulphur. And it wasn't even a surface residue. It was a mildly elevated sulphur count in the air. Lucifer didn't touch the locks from the inside _or_ the outside, no one broke through the walls and there is no way in hell anyone hacked any computer because super max deliberately does not have more than the bare minimum in the way of electronics. Even if someone had put the vid feeds on a loop, there would be evidence of exiting. The keys to super max cells only work once and Lucifer's cell didn't have a key for that day."

Gibbs scowled. "You're telling me there isn't a snowflake's chance in hell of Lucifer getting out."

"Boss, he was buried under fifty metric tons of steel pretending to be a door with a six inch gap in it through which his meal pellets were dropped. The pneumatic pistons required to lift that door could not be manipulated by human, Klingon, Vulcan or Romulan force. You'd need a forklift to move it and even then, the hallways are too narrow for heavy machinery. The water pipes are two inches in diameter and the toilet pipes four inches. There are no windows and no ventilation shafts. There is one small auto-bot that cleans up but it is removed from the cell once a week and immediately melted out of existence by a Vulcan guard, who is changed every rotation and only comes into contact with the prisoner once in a lifetime." McGee shifted uncomfortably.

"And yet he got out," Gibbs said half-sarcastically and the navigator slumped. "Good job, McGee," and the captain's voice was brusquely sincere. "We've got a clear picture now. I think we're going to have to look further afield than your standard professional prison break. Abby?"

"_I have a _thousand _possible ways of breaking out of that prison,"_ the peppy engineer bubbled over the comm, "_but I admit most of them involve a major frontal assault, a photon torpedo and the end of the universe. Leave it with me, I'll reach out to some people I know. In the meantime, I'd keep my sensors peeled for that sulphur."_

Everyone on the bridge blinked. Why did their crazy engineer give a rat's ass about the sulphur? "Care to explain?" Gibbs asked drily.

"_Well, it's just a little hinky," _Abby sounded thoughtful. _"Major Mass-Spec_ _has never let me down," _Tony snorted and then ducked. You never knew if Abby had _really_ gotten rid of those hidden paint-ball guns. _"Watch it, Dinozzo. Major Mass-Spec may be an antique but he's aged like fine wine and he's never let me down yet."_

"Abs," Gibbs reminded. "Hinky?"

"_Right, well, you know that sulphur has a half-life of like, eighty-seven days in the atmosphere before it goes poof?"_

"Yeah, so?" Gibbs prompted, hoping to get to the point sometime before senility caught up with them.

"_Well, this sulphur is two thousand, three hundred and sixty seven years old, give or take a few months. It's atomically impossible and I can't explain it."_

"If that's what you call a little hinky Abs," Tony interjected again, "I don't think I want to find out what you call a lot hinky."

"_A lot hinky is you dressed in sequined drag dancing the Macarena on McGee's lap,"_ she shot back without skipping a beat. _"But seriously Gibbs, there's something freaky about that sulphur."_

"I'll let Winchester know," Gibbs mused. "In the meantime Abs, you and McGee keep looking at the evidence. We'll turn back and try to pick up the trail. _LA_ should be in the area to back up the _Impala_."

* * *

_Unknown location_

"Pay up, boyo," a gravelly voice demanded and the tall figure known as Lucifer sneered, almost refusing and then stepped back in wary respect as the voice's owner let his sharp teeth show in a wicked smile. "I don't give a damn what you do next as long as I get my payment."

"Yes, yes," Lucifer drawled, inhaling sharply with unparalleled pleasure. The air was clean, clear and crisp, fragrant with pine and dirt. Prison had been good for him. The sheer dullness had let his manic brain run wild and now - he crouched to gently stroke a pretty pink daisy - he had a better appreciation for his regained control over life and death. "I don't understand why you want that one though," he mused. "He's not that interesting. Compared to the others, that is."

The smile widened. "Because he's the only one who escaped and succeeded in living life to the fullest."

Lucifer raised an eyebrow. "So?"

"It was the perfect trap. Even if they got away, they wouldn't be free. But he is. I want to know why. I'm just a little curious. And irritated. So you're going to bring me my prize, you twisted Romulan mongrel or I swear by the stars and stones I'll throw you straight back into super max and add a few of my…friends to spice things up."

Lucifer shrugged fluidly. "Sure. We can lay another one of those traps you're so fond of. You can have him and I'll get my revenge. I can do whatever I damn well please." His prison-thinned face twisted into a rictus of poisonous hate. "After all, I've just escaped hell."

The wicked smile grew to diabolical proportions. "I think we're going to get along just fine."

Lucifer grinned back.

Sure they would. Right up until they tore each other apart, limb from limb.

Lucifer was looking forward to it.

* * *

*See _The Prank Defenders,_ chapter 17 if you dare


	2. Through the Rabbit Hole

I do not own Star Trek 2009, Supernatural, NCIS or NCIS: LA.

* * *

It was amazing how quickly the news spread. Fear was rippling across Federation space like a pervasive fog. Admiral Christopher Pike stared out at the star-lit vista from his temporary office window as he listened to the nervous chatter of Starfleet officers behind him. Yes, the week was off to a stupendous start. Lucifer escaped, _Enterprise_ missing and the entire Federation fleet was scrambling like a gaggle of frightened geese.

He remained at the window, knowing that his own calm demeanour would reassure his subordinates. He knew the younger officers thought that nothing rattled Admiral Pike, not even Captains Kirk or Winchester. The idea caused him to chuckle softly. He was very rattled every time something like this cropped up but allowing it to dictate his actions accomplished nothing.

So he waited until Miyuki scurried up to him with a PADD, the screen displaying a disgruntled looking Captain Gibbs. _"Winchester fried his communications system."_ The _Washington_'s captain was notorious for his terse, blunt manner. Pike found it refreshing and reassuring. Still, Winchester must have done something stupider than usual to get this level of thinly veiled irritation.

"I assume he's out looking for the _Enterprise_."

"_He is. We're tracking Lucifer but I think we need to put that on the backburner."_

"Trail's too old?"

"_Too old, too faint and we can't pick it up fast enough. Kirk said something about Lucifer's subordinates making off with a sample of the stock market's base code. There hasn't been any activity on that front. Chances are they can't make use of it, not without the crazy freak's inhuman brain. Now he's on the loose and I know prison either teaches patience or rashness. Someone of Lucifer's calibre? He'll have learned patience. I think that's where we need to look."_

"So we've just screwed ourselves over by not executing him when we had the chance." Gibbs sighed and Pike lowered his voice as the closest information analyst flinched at Pike's cold tone.

"_Probably."_

"Clear it with Vance but I have no problem with giving you a carte blanche. Pursue the investigation as you see fit. I'll send the _LA _after the Winchesters but feel free to call Callen back if you need him."

"_You think it's going to be that easy?"_

Pike dialled down the volume on the PADD. Miyuki might have nerves of steel and fathomless discretion but not everyone in the room had her integrity. He didn't need the news spreading around Starfleet. "Hell no. Keep your eyes open Gibbs or this whole thing could blow up in our faces."

* * *

_Impala_

"Anything?" Dean asked as they carefully searched the quadrant of space. Sam shook his head and punched another few buttons.

"Their trail just ends, as if they should be here in front of us."

"But they aren't."

"Stunning observation," Sam observed dryly.

"Atlantis cloak?"

"Why wouldn't they be answering our calls?" Sam shot back rhetorically.

Dean tapped out the beat to Back in Black on his chair arm as he scowled at the peaceful stars. "I could think of at least six reasons they couldn't answer," he mused absently and the bridge crew fidgeted. None of those reasons would be positive. "Sam, what makes you think this trail ends?" he asked.

Sam shrugged. "The trail of particles ends."

"Yeah, but what makes you think it ends? Do they disappear? Is there something funny about that? Come on man, we're in the middle of nowhere! The biggest thing around is a dying star. _Enterprise_ doesn't go anywhere without a bang."

Dean's emphatically waving hands had Sam studying the data again. His brow wrinkled. "Actually," he began and paused.

"Actually what?" Jo demanded before she could help herself. She winced an apology to her captain, who waved it off. The curiosity was eating everyone alive.

Sam ran a few more scans until his computer warbled obligingly. "Spock and I have been making a study of cloaked ships. We haven't found any fast and hard rules but if I was forced into making an observation, I'd say it's likely the _Enterprise_ is cloaked and in the area."

"Ash, find out if there's anything hostile in the area," Dean said thoughtfully. He didn't like sitting out in the open like this. If _Enterprise_ was missing, letting the _Impala_ linger about like the last cookie on the plate was a very bad idea. They needed to be in and out again before whatever took the _Enterprise_ decided to use the _Impala_ as a toothpick.

"Like the commander says," Ash drawled, "there aren't any hard and fast rules regarding cloaked ships, but if I had to guess, I'd say we're surrounded. More than five ships, less than twenty."

Dean had to suppress the urge to order red alert. That would aggravate the whole situation and he wanted as much time as possible to think about this. _Enterprise_ was capable of taking on at approximately eight Romulan ships comfortably. She'd handled up to twenty but you could have built a star base from the carnage left behind. There was no sign of battle here. Whatever had happened, the _Enterprise _had gone peacefully or had arrived prior to the enemy and was hiding out among the enemy.

If he had to bet (and Dean Winchester was a betting man), the _Enterprise_ was sitting pretty under her own power and command, just waiting for the opportune moment. Following that line of thought, if the _Enterprise_ went to ground, she was probably waiting for the _Impala_ to show up and help out. The number of enemies a ship could take on shot up drastically when there was a partner in the area to assist. "Ash, can you lock on one of our friends with enough accuracy to shove a photon torpedo down their throats?"

Ash ran a few calculations and frowned thoughtfully. "Not enough to blow their asses into vacuum but we can definitely knock out a few major systems."

Dean glanced at Sam, who shrugged. There was probably a more intellectual, peaceful way to poke the bear but Dean didn't have the patience for that. Besides, a photon torpedo always made a lasting impression. "We're going to red alert. Ash, two shots at your best target as soon as you're confident."

The missiles arced out a few seconds later, splattering against nothing for a minute. The _Impala_ held her breath and then a battered Romulan warbird appeared. "Independent mercenary," Sam reported. Not affiliated with the Romulan government, which was good because they were still very pissed at the _Impala_ and her captain. No need to heap burning coals on pointy-eared heads and all that.

"Make them ask for terms," Dean ordered and his crew leapt into action, the _Impala _charging towards the confrontation with eager hunger. When they finished with their enemy, Dean scowled in confusion. "Why aren't the rest of them picking a fight with us? We just fried their buddies. Sam, what's going on?"

"How should I know?" his brother snapped. "They're just sitting there. Wait a minute. Here's something. Wow, that's interesting."

"Saaam," Dean drawled, irritated that his brother wasn't sharing. Sam wiped the current tactical screen and zoomed in on his newest find so everyone could see. "What the hell is that?"

'That' was a flickering stream of strange violet, sapphire and emerald particles rippling around the dying star, clearly drawing their energy from the heart of the star itself. "Sam?" Dean demanded more insistently.

"I…have no idea." When Dean glared at his brother, demanding the latest crazy mishmash that would invariably end up being the correct theory, Sam shrugged. "Seriously dude. No idea. It's not screaming power or anything. It's just going around the planet and then disappears."

"Could it have fried _Enterprise?_" Dean asked, throttling back adrenaline. Knowing the _Enterprise_ and her crew's knack for uniquely life/universe/mind-threatening situations, that little ripple of energy could have very well done something drastic.

Sam shook his head. "I don't think so. The readings I'm getting aren't reactive. They're just transitorily inert. It warrants a closer look."

Dean bounced out of his seat and began to pace around the bridge, thinking furiously. "Our buddies out there aren't attacking because of what happened to _Enterprise._" Sam didn't disagree, fiddling with a knob. "It was important enough that _Enterprise_ stopped in their search for us to take this little detour," Dean continued.

"Or were made to take a detour," Sam contributed helpfully.

"Or were made to take a detour," Dean agreed. "So it's settled. I'm going to check it out in a shuttle. Sam, you can stay here and watch the store."

He deliberately didn't look at his brother, certain that if he did, Sam would use his bitchface to claw Dean's eyes out. "You are not going out there without me!"

"Sam," Dean stopped the rant in its tracks with his captain voice. "I need you to watch my back and I need you to do it from a position of strength. The _Impala_ is our best position of strength and you know how to make use of her. Jo, Ash and I are going to take the shuttle. If things get squirrelly, you can use the tractor beam to yank us back."

Sam growled under his breath but acquiesced in poor grace. "Understood. But I'm not telling Ellen your plan for you."

Dean gulped.

"Maybe the sooner we get out of here, the sooner we can help _Enterprise_?" Jo suggested weakly, already sidling for the door.

"Good idea," Dean seconded. "Ash, get your ass in gear." The skinny navigator bolted for the lift like a kid on a sugar high, already muttering calculations under his breath, totally ignoring the mortal peril his captain was about to experience in favour of the interesting enigma that just might swallow their shuttle whole. In fact, he was so excited that he beat both his captain and security officer to the shuttle and was waiting impatiently, the sensors already online and spitting out results.

Dean feathered the controls and the shuttle obediently swooped out towards the anomaly. Soon they were hovering on the very edge of the pretty, rippling energy band, maintaining contact with a worried Sam back on the _Impala_. The most Ash could tell Dean was that the band was a complex, extremely powerful anomaly and not a natural one. "You're saying it's manmade?" Dean asked incredulously.

"Well," Ash drawled, "I don't know about _man-_made, but definitely constructed by someone or something. And recently, I might add. Starfleet was through here eight months ago and had done a survey sweep of the sector. If this had been there then, we'd have heard about it before now." Dean's mood darkened. He didn't like the sound of that. _Enterprise_ gone missing near an anomaly that had been constructed, an anomaly that happened to be surrounded by their enemies? The situation stank like a trap. Still, so far no Romulans shot at them, the universe didn't implode and the _Impala_ was still in one spot. So far, so good but Dean didn't dare say that aloud. As soon as he did, it would all go to pot.

"So far, so good," Jo muttered, playing with her favourite knife. Science usually bored her. Ash slapped a hand to his face and Dean sighed in despair.

Now she'd done it.

* * *

_Enterprise_

"Well?" Kirk asked wearily.

"Still stuck, sir." Spock's shoulders were wired tighter than usual in confusion. Kirk's first officer did not like being out of control and what had happened to them practically defined out of control.

"Great. Do we have any idea of where we are?"

"Still vorking on that, keptin," Chekov replied. "Another minute and I vill have it for you." Kirk tried to sit still and wait patiently but it was hard. One minute thirty terrified Romulan ships had ordered the _Enterprise_ to take a gander at the funky coloured particles in space, the next they were floating in a sea of stars that were definitely not where they had started.

This stank of a trap and they – he – had walked right into it like a stupid, brainless blind sheep. He had thought taking a preliminary scan of the anomaly and handing it off to the Romulans would be enough. Apparently not. They'd gotten yanked into the slipstream of particles and then - poof! Somewhere else entirely.

"Keptin!" Chekov yelped, excitement and confusion making the kid's voice strident and heavily Russian. "Ve are barely tree parsecs from Wulcan!"

Kirk frowned. "Mr. Chekov," he began mildly, "Vulcan no longer exists. We were there, remember?"

"Yes, keptin! And I am tellink you dat ve are two point six tree parsecs from de planet Wulcan!" The navigator zoomed in on the viewscreen, turning a tiny red dot into a slightly bigger red dot.

"Mr. Chekov is correct," Spock corroborated and Kirk caught the faintest thread of emotion in the scientist's careful pronunciation.

"That means, what, we've travelled in time?" Kirk demanded incredulously.

Spock was busy letting his fingers fly over his console as his computer strained to keep up with his formidable intellect. "According to the positioning of the stars and the age of the planet itself," the Vulcan intoned with gravity, "we have indeed. Not only are we positioned near Vulcan, we have arrived during the Time of Awakening at the height of hostilities between Surak and those colloquially known as the Raptors."

Everyone on the bridge understood the deadly implications in a heartbeat.

"Shit," Kirk cursed succinctly.

"Shit indeed," Spock agreed and Kirk laughed.

* * *

_Impala_

"That's not good," Sam muttered under his breath when his brother's shuttle blinked out of existence. Anyone else would have panicked in no time flat but Sam Winchester was made of sterner stuff.

He reviewed what he knew. The _Impala_'s scanners couldn't tell him where the shuttle had gone. It simply blipped out of existence. No trail to follow, no emissions. The shuttle had coasted along the stream of particles and then disappeared around the curve of the dying star.

The _Impala _had naturally followed them around the curve, expecting to find the shuttle sitting pretty on the other side. When that didn't happen, Sam had ordered the _Impala_ to sit still for a minute. It was possible that they had been travelling at the same speed as the shuttle. When it was clear that the shuttle was no longer anywhere near the _Impala_, Sam allowed himself a minor spike of concern. He quickly determined a safe proximity and told Cas to stay well away from it.

Then Sam Winchester decided to go find the closest witness and interrogate them until they gave him the information he wanted. For lack of a better candidate, he decided to take Bobby with him. The engineer could keep up with any sort of scientific parlance they'd run into and let's face it, Bobby Singer ate durasteel hull plates for breakfast. He made damn good back-up.

* * *

_Enterprise_

"Hey look, it's Keptin Vinchester!" Chekov chirped from his seat. Kirk stopped conferencing with Bones (who was very unimpressed with this turn of events) and Spock.

"What?" he squawked. Chekov shrugged and Uhura agreed.

"Sir, he's hailing us. Putting Captain Winchster on screen."

"_Kirk, what the _hell_ just happened?" _Three pinched, white faces peered at the _Enterprise_'s bridge crew. They looked rattled but unhurt, much like the _Enterprise_ when they had been shot through whatever hole in space and time they'd tripped over.

"Welcome to Vulcan, somewhere circa their 4th century," Kirk drawled.

"_WHAT?"_

"Hey, that was pretty much my reaction too. Better park your shuttle and get up here before anyone spots us. I'd like to cut down on the chatter before we get caught and embroiled in things bigger and more important than us." Kirk deliberately kept the terms vague. Dean caught on quickly. No names, no ship designations, nothing that could be identified. They were officially so far into 'enemy' territory that it made their previous jaunts into Romulan space look like a kiddie wading pool. Messing with the events surrounding this period of time could have catastrophic consequences. Dean cut the communication line and made a sprint for the _Enterprise_'s shuttle bay.

"Spock, do we need to worry about altering events?" Kirk asked seriously.

Spock's eyebrows made a very deep furrow as his dark eyes dulled for a moment in heavy-duty scientific thought. The whole crew sat quietly, Chekov clearly thinking over his own theories. No offense to the whiz kid but Kirk would be relying on Spock for this particular verdict. Chekov was considered a scientific dabbler and his first love would always be mathematics.

"I cannot advise you in this matter, captain," Spock declared with finality a moment later. "There is not enough empirical data to formulate a theory." Kirk sputtered in disappointment. "However," the first officer continued, "I believe it would be wise to err on the side of caution. Unfortunately it seems we have no immediate route back."

"Uhura," Kirk began slowly, trying to sort out his thoughts and prioritize the actions that needed to be taken. "Monitor all communications in the area. Chekov, I do _not_ want to be snuck up on by anyone. Keep the sensors sweeping at all times. Spock, find us a way back. Winchester, I could use your opinion," he finished as the lift doors whooshed open.

"We're screwed," Dean said succinctly.

Jim rolled his eyes in good-natured exasperation. "Fantastic observation, genius. Anything else we poor _Enterprise_ idiots might have missed?"

* * *

_Washington_

"You mean we're now short _two_ frontline captains?" Gibbs demanded incredulously.

Commander Winchester winced. _"But our Romulan friend has told us quite a bit," _he volunteered.

Gibbs snorted. "I'll bet he did." Sam Winchester could be a scary bastard when he wished. "What did you find out?"

"_That he was paid handsomely by someone who was _not_ Lucifer to lure and push the _Enterprise_ and the _Impala_ into the anomaly if at all possible. The only reason we're still here is because the _Enterprise's _disappearance made us suspicious. _Enterprise_ probably sailed right into the trap since they had no reason to be looking for cloaked Romulan ships laying in ambush. He's now claiming that if I let him off my ship and into Starfleet custody his employer will find and kill his ass very dead." _ Commander Winchester wound down his report with the final finding. _"None of them have a single freaking clue what happens to anyone who goes into that anomaly." _

"I hope you're not planning to jump into it," Gibbs said and the manner in which he said it conveyed that it wasn't really a hope. It was an order.

"_Of course not!"_ The kid looked indignant. _"Someone needs to make sure that whoever created the anomaly doesn't come back and seal it shut. Judging by the lack of _Enterprise_ or shuttle, it's a one-way conduit but we need to study it in order to bring them back." _

Good. Someone on that zany ship had his head screwed on straight. "Admirals Pike and Vance put me in charge," he said calmly. "Find out where they went and bring them back. I'll stop by and pick up your Romulan. Finding his employer should lead us to Lucifer. Expect us in three hours. _LA _should be there in less than an hour. They'll back you up, but so help me Winchester if Callen arrives and you're missing, I'll ground your entire ship Earth-side myself. _Washington _out."

He waited until his crew was engrossed in getting the ship up to warp seven before he scowled and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was someone new. Lucifer wasn't so hands-off. Somewhere along the way the bastard had found a partner as twisted and clever as Lucifer. Gibbs punched a button on his control pad. "Duck," he greeted.

"_Jethro! What can I do for you?"_

Gibbs took a deep breath. Emotional profile investigation was too airy-fairy for his tastes."I need your take on this sequence of events," he almost growled. "I think we have a new player in town."

"_Ah. Fascinating. Shall I come to you?"_

"Nope, on my way," the captain said briskly, standing up. He needed to stretch his legs and it probably wouldn't hurt to stop by Abby's. She and McGee probably had some brain-breaking theory about this anomaly-thing that had swallowed two Federation ships.

If he was lucky, they could toss Lucifer and his new best friend into it after retrieving their missing people.


	3. Confusion as a General State of Being

I do not own Star Trek 2009, Supernatural, NCIS, NCIS: LA or Firefly.

* * *

_Enterprise_

"Well this is just fantastic," Dean drawled. "I've always wanted to go on a field trip to one of the most turbulent periods space has ever experienced. Let's not forget that the Vulcans are busy tearing each other apart and they haven't acquainted themselves with humans yet."

"Actually, that's probably a good thing," Kirk admitted.

"I beg your pardon, captain?" Spock asked.

Kirk winced. "I'll be the first to admit we humans aren't exactly peaceable creatures when even remotely threatened. I don't really want to think about what would happen if humanity were involved."

"So we're keeping our heads down," Dean stated.

"Spock, where are we on getting home?" Kirk asked to move their conversation over to something more constructive. Spock actually shifted uncomfortably in his seat. If he had been human, frustration and chagrin would have been rolling off the Vulcan in waves. He glanced over at Chekov, who shrugged minutely. "You have no idea," Kirk filled in.

A faint flush of green tinged the top of the Vulcan's pointy ears. "I did not have sufficient time analyzing the anomaly on the proper side of the vortex. I cannot draw any conclusions regarding the anomaly or how it functions. Additionally, it does not appear to allow travel in the opposite direction."

"Based on what you can see out the window," Kirk said dryly. Spock nodded.

"Great. Scotty?"

"_Aye, capt'n?" _

"Best get that Atlantean cloak up and running. Let me know how long you think it can stay active if we just sit here and twiddle our thumbs so Spock can figure out how to get us home." Kirk paused. "There haven't been any adverse effects from our little hop through time and space, have there?"

"_Not so far as I can tell, capt'n. I've got Keenser on it. Little bugger might be a sandwich thief but he knows this lady almost as well as I do." _

"Right. Uhura, I want you scanning for any activity out there on any channels, even if it's nothing more than a traffic update in the Koor'in Nebula. Winchester, I think Scotty could use you in engineering. I need to know exactly what resources we have on board in case Spock decides we need to build H.G. Wells' time machine." Kirk slanted his friend a glance. Dean nodded equably, understanding that two captains on one bridge was a bad idea even if they were buddies and he wasn't the _Enterprise_ captain. It would be up to Dean to step down with grace. Plus, now he could try out that idea, the one Sam had refused to allow. Scotty was always up for an adventure.

Plus it would keep his mind away from nerve-wracking questions like "What if they didn't find a way back?"

* * *

_Impala_

They had been out here for days. The _Los Angeles _had stuck around as long as she could but Starfleet had called Callen back to deal with some sort of armed protest a few systems over. Hetty had taken what data Sam had with her to puzzle over but officially, Starfleet's brightest had come up with zilch.

"Passive. Practically intert. No significant power readings whatsoever," Sam muttered under his breath for the umpteenth time. The admirals refused to let him pitch something through for empirical experimental purposes. He rattled his fingers off the edge of the console but stopped abruptly when he realized the rest of the crew was dispirited and looking to him for answers.

As far as Sam and his astute scientists could tell, neither _Enterprise_ nor Dean's shuttle had been yanked away at impossible speeds. Nor had they been disintegrated (thank goodness), which left the more esoteric solutions – time travel or alternate realities. If Sam had to guess, he'd say that the missing ships had encountered time travel. The few recorded incidents of alternate realities had involved massive power surges and complicated boomerang effects.

He hoped.

That still didn't help him much. Accidental time travel hadn't exactly been covered in his rather extensive Starfleet education, he grumped to himself.

Accidental time travel.

"_Well, there was that time when Jack tripped over a time travelling Ancient puddle jumper."_ _Carter had laughed and waved a hand airily. "Still not entirely sure how it works exactly, but I'm studying it in my spare time._

"Carter," Sam blurted aloud.

"Beg pardon?" Castiel asked from where he was feverishly scanning space yet again just in case the scientific geniuses had missed something.

"SG-1 has experienced time travel! They might have some ideas," Sam's brain kicked into high gear, "and even if they don't, they've got a shuttle that goes back in time."

"Dude, they won't give it to us. SG-1 might but the IOA won't," Shari from alpha shift pointed out reluctantly, having taken over Ash's navigational postion. "Hey, we could steal it!"

"Absolutely not." Sam quashed that idea right off the bat. "Well, a least not yet," he qualified after a minute. "Cas, get us to that intergalactic gate at warp 9. God only knows what Dean and Jim are getting up to in ancient times."

"Or future times," Shari pointed out flippantly and a whole new level of concern settled over the crew. _Enterprise_ was damn durable but if she was several hundred years in the future, she could be sadly outclassed. "Sorry," the wacky scientist offered weakly.

"Castiel, warp nine if you please," Sam ordered, stamping down fear.

* * *

_Washington_

"Well, McGee?"

Timothy McGee frowned in consternation. He didn't like disappointing his captain. None of them did. But this Lucifer freak was either way ahead of them in tech or he was magical. The trail just ended with a dusting of that weird-ass sulphur. He had sent some down to Abby, who added it to her collection. At least she hadn't named the samples yet. "Sorry Captain," he admitted reluctantly. "I don't have any progress to report. Hell, I don't even know what I'm looking for."

McGee looked so depressed that even Dinozzo didn't have the heart to poke fun at him. Gibbs was silent, turning his attention away from his crew for a minute. They were thinking outside the box, sure, but it seemed like they had bumped up against a bigger box. Like nesting dolls, every time they bent their brains far enough to get a handle on what Lucifer had done, he was already outside their grasp.

"Has anyone talked to Winchester's buddy, what's-his-name, trader, Reynolds?"

Everyone swivelled around to shoot their captain a curious glance. Ziva checked her logs. "Not as far as I can tell, captain."

"Dial him up," Gibbs ordered thoughtfully. "He hopped realities, didn't he? Should be able to give Sam Winchester some idea if the missing ship time travelled or not. He can also tell us if that connection of his went two ways. Maybe something or someone from his world is letting Lucifer hop around like a grasshopper."

"You sure Reynolds is going to be okay with us contacting him like that, boss?" Dinozzo asked with concern. "From what I heard, he was catching flack from other traders for getting too cozy with Starfleet."

"Winchester and Kirk are missing. He'll get over it." Gibbs stated in his usual direct manner. "If we don't catch up with Lucifer and the Federation economy falls, Reynolds will be dealing directly with Romulans and Klingons, who aren't nearly as friendly as us. Ziva, let me know when you've got him on the line."

The Israeli officer nodded and a minute later, she was listening impassively to a rather impressive rant. "Captain Reynolds, sir. He insists he is going to speak his mind." Ziva brought the rather irate captain up on the bridge viewscreen.

"_Do you have any _idea_ how bad this is for my business?" _the Browncoat captain blazed, his hands waving around indignantly. _"You're not even the usual Starfleet idiots! I don't give a damn what stupid world-ending conundrum you've stumbled over this time, you sure as hell don't need me to fix it because I'm not going to!"_

"Winchester and Kirk are missing," Gibbs began.

"_No. No. _Hell _no. We are not intergalactic captain-rescuers! My contacts aren't speaking to me, business is dropping off and my engines are on the fritz again."_

Gibbs allowed himself a very small grin. No wonder Winchester liked the man. Captain Reynolds seemed like a very honest man – if he was angry or happy with you, you were going to know about it. He was probably a man of his word but there was a world-weary twist to his mouth that said cheating Reynolds would be difficult to say the least. And if you looked past the bluster, there was a quiet grieving to the man, something that said he'd seen more than anyone should ever have to.

"I need to know if they time-travelled or if they hopped realities," Gibbs dove in when Reynolds paused for breath.

"_What?"_

"They were sucked into an anomaly and Starfleet isn't letting us send probes through until we've determined if they time-travelled or are in an alternate reality. You're from an alternate reality. Do you or any of your crew have insight on the matter?"

Reynolds plopped into his captain's chair with a huffed sigh. _"Look, if Winchester and Kirk had skipped into another reality, you'd know. It was a massive energy surge and we were just lucky we came into your space in one of the clearest, deadest areas I've ever seen. Time travel, I got nothin'."_

Gibbs nodded to Ziva. She'd pass the word onto Sam.

"And the other?" Gibbs prompted.

Reynolds frowned. _"Did anyone come in with us? Not that I can tell._ _Why?" _he asked warily.

"Undoubtedly you know that Lucifer is on the loose. Someone has been teleporting, for lack of a better word, the bastard all over Federation space and we can't get a lead on him." Gibbs crossed his arms while Reynolds considered the implications of such ability.

"_Nothing that came with us. Our world didn't have any tech like that. If it did, I'd have stolen it and turned it to my own nefarious purposes." _A quick grin gleamed in the dim light of Reynolds' ship. _"I can put the word out that Luci's feeling frisky. Traders might not like Starfleet much, but everyone knows Starfleet doesn't phaser first and ask questions later."_

"Appreciate it," Gibbs said good-naturedly. Reynolds glowered and Gibbs could see him wondering if he dared to flip this new captain a rude gesture. Gibbs was pretty sure he'd have done it to Winchester or Kirk. "Tell your trader buddies that I remember untangling the Certaan mess and they were happy enough to work with me then. Haven't screwed over a trader before, during or since."

Reynolds blinked. _"That was you?"_ The _Washington_ bridge crew all smirked, each one bearing its own Gibb-influenced twist. _"Damn_._"_ The trader wasn't exactly respectful after that but Gibbs could see the angry fire die down. Mentioning Gibbs wouldn't fix Reynolds' problems but it'd help.

"_Find'em, Captain," _Reynolds finally said. _"I know my reputation's shot so I'd help if I could but I've got nothing to bring to the table. The two of them are an enormous pain in my ass but they're good men with good crews. Reynolds out."_

"He didn't give us much, did he?" Dinozzo complained.

"He eliminated a whole bunch of possibilities," McGee pointed out. "We can focus on the ones that remain. It's helpful."

Gibbs ignored his bickering crew and stared blindly at the blank viewscreen. It had been too quiet. Nine days since Lucifer's escape, eight since _Enterprise_ went missing. It felt like the calm before the storm. For all that he had told Admiral Pike Lucifer had learned patience, Gibbs felt certain that Lucifer hadn't learned _that_ much patience.

"Captain," Ziva summoned urgently. Gibbs walked over and Ziva gestured at the screen, dismay written all over her face.

It had started.

* * *

_Starfleet_

The Federation stock market blipped out of existence in exactly eight minutes and forty one seconds. Every Federation analyst who had been absolutely positive that Lucifer couldn't hack their beefed-up system choked in horror and scrambled to shore up the crumbling defences but Lucifer's worm was unstoppable.

The value of Federation credits plummeted. Riots began to break out across Federation space as the news spread like poisonous gas to every corner of the galaxy, including Klingon and Romulan space. Starfleet's enemies started closing in immediately, nibbling at the Neutral Zone. Starfleet Command immediately instituted martial law, clamping down on precious resources and ignoring the giant elephant labelled "Starfleet Debt" lurking in the figurative centre of the room.

Admiral Pike felt like a very old man all of a sudden. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. This sort of attack wasn't really his thing. The Intelligence Office was usually pretty good about looking after the electronic side of warfare but they had been rocked by corruption lately and due to unexpected, almost crippling accountability, had had their hands tied.

The _Impala_ had gone haring off to the intergalactic gate on their quest to find the _Enterprise_ but the truth of the matter was that even if Sam found his brother and Jim Kirk, there was little to no reversing the damage wrought. Even if Jim and Dean pulled off their usual miracle, time was money, after all.

The most he could do was drag Dr. McCoy's mother, little Joanna and John Winchester up to Pike's current office and yank them all onto the Miranda-class ship Pike had decided he was going to appropriate when it all went to hell. That way when Dean and Jim did turn up, he could look them in the eye and say that their families were safe.

In the meantime, he stared mournfully at the _Constellation_. He figured it would be about a week before she was dismantled and sold for scrap to futilely try to pay Starfleet debts. Pike was waiting for the IO officer who would inevitably show up and demand Pike attend court tomorrow for disobeying a direct order and sending the _Los Angeles_, _Washington_ and _Impala_ out of immediate contact. Pike figured by the time anyone managed to contact the ships, events would be in such chaos that the ships would be out on their own, essentially self-contained little worlds capable of defending themselves.

* * *

_Enterprise_

"Captain," Uhura called in a worried tone of voice. "Captain, there's someone hailing us."

Kirk spun around. "That's impossible. We're invisible. Are they sending a general hail?"

The pretty communications officer shook her head. "They're hailing us. The USS _Enterprise._" Curious now, Kirk hoisted himself out of his chair and paced across the back of the bridge.

"Pull the ship up on screen," Kirk ordered. The screen flickered to show what had to be the forerunner of Romulan birds-of-prey. Surprisingly, it was sleeker than the current versions and dipped through space with grace. It was looping about in a clear search pattern and Kirk frowned. "Broadcast on speakers."

"_Hailing the USS _Enterprise_ under the command of Captain James Tiberius Kirk. Hailing the USS _Enterprise_ under the command of Captain James Tiberius Kirk."_ It was a curious voice, definitely male and probably Vulcan but strangely strained, as if the speaker was attempting to suppress great emotion. Uhura cut it off after a minute or so.

"I believe it's a recording, captain," she said quietly.

"Captain, that ship's internal systems are severely compromised," Spock reported. "There are faint life signs but several are failing fast."

"Battle, Spock?"

The Vulcan tilted his head, considering. "I do not believe so. Probabilities lean towards sabotage."

"I'd like to help them," Kirk mused thoughtfully. "But it does beg the question – how the hell did they know of our existence? Uhura, open up a channel. If there's an image, put it up."

She nodded and the screen flickered again, this time connecting with the mystery ship. The bridge was hazy with smoke, clearly suffering from some sort of internal explosion. "Autopilot," Kirk muttered. "They knew we'd be here." He stepped up and cleared his throat. "This is Captain James Tiberius Kirk. Do you require our assistance?"

A blackened, dirty hand appeared in the bottom of the screen and a big frame hauled itself up to peer over the pilot's console. Barely regulation hair was pushed wearily off the individual's forehead and Kirk had to stifle his surprise as Uhura gasped.

"Dean?" the spectre asked, righting the broken pilot's chair and settling gingerly into it. The impossible apparition definitely appeared to be real, blood trickling scarlet down his face and he swiped irritably at it.

Kirk's reply jumped out before he could stop himself. "Down in engineering."

"Oh good. I didn't undershoot the mark again. Keep him down there, will you? And don't tell him I'm talking to you."

"Sam, what the hell are you doing on a Romulan bird of prey, where is the _Impala_ and how the hell are you even here? Undershoot the mark again?" Kirk demanded.

Sam Winchester waved a hand tiredly. "Jim, could we do this later? My stolen ship is about to blow up and I need you to rescue everyone on it."

Kirk swallowed his surprise. "Sure. We'll mass-transport everyone else but I want you up here on the bridge ASAP."

"No can do," Sam replied. "You see, I have to die right here, right now."


	4. Burdens

I do not own Star Trek 2009, Supernatural, NCIS, NCIS: LA, Stargate SG-1 or Pirates of the Caribbean. *whew* That's getting to be a long list.

* * *

_Impala_

In many ways, piloting through SG-1's universe was always a quiet, beautiful ride. The more Sam studied the different universes, the more similarities he found – and more differences. For example, in Sam's universe this particular route to Earth was usually littered with Starfleet cruisers and trader ships and private craft. The SG-1 route was empty of ship traffic and Sam could appreciate the beauty of stars he was used to seeing littered with probes, satellites and ships.

Normally he would take a moment to look, to enjoy the difference. Right now, the acting captain's attention was riveted on the problem before him. Time was ticking by and still the _Impala_'s scientists weren't getting anywhere. They had updated SG-1 as soon as communications would allow and Stargate Command had promised to pass the conundrum on to Rodney McKay for good measure.

When the _Impala_ assumed Earth-orbit, the command crew and a select team of Sam's scientists beamed down to Cheyenne Mountain. "Wow," Shari whispered to Castiel. "It's like being in a time warp!" Sam shot her a quelling look. SGC's tech might be running behind Starfleet's in certain areas but that meant practically nothing when it came to the calibre of SGC thinking. They were experienced in the strangeness of space and were used to impossible situations, more so than most Starfleet captains.

"Commander Winchester," General Landry greeted cordially. "A pleasure to see you again. I wish it was under better circumstances. Lieutenant Colonel Carter is this way. Daniel also has some artifacts he'd like to show you, see if they spark any ideas."

Sure enough, Carter and Daniel had a whole list of new information for the _Impala_ crew. "We have the time-travelling puddle jumper specs here," Carter began after a quick nod hello, "and the energy readings of the coordinates from which the jumper has moved through time. Daniel would like you to take a look at the alternate reality mirror. I know you think you can eliminate reality jumping, but the better informed we are – "

"The fewer mistakes we make," Sam finished. "Seriously Sam, Daniel, everyone, thanks." He glanced around Carter's lab. Daniel was already jabbering away with Shari and perceptive Mitchell had sat a fretting Castiel down in the corner, tackling the disappearance from a pilot's viewpoint as Teal'c loomed reassuringly over their shoulders. Retired General Jack O'Neil appeared to have taken up the official title of SG-1 mascot, bringing back an entire platter of food and drink for what would undoubtedly turn into an all-night affair. The pretty blonde nodded briskly.

"No problem. Now, let's see what you brought me."

* * *

_Starbase 5_

It was a God-forsaken mess. They hadn't realized how vulnerable the Federation was until it was put under the right sort of stress. Planets were clamoring for reassurances as people around the galaxy put runs on the banks. Suddenly certain systems were holding vital resources hostage from everyone else and Starfleet ships with defensive capabilities were suddenly coming under attack. Politicians, billionaires, anyone with anything to lose was demanding adequate protection from the big hitters in Starfleet's stables.

_Enterprise_ was missing.

Pike had closed himself in his office for a few minutes of peace and rested his hot forehead against the glass. He hadn't made it off the star base. The Miranda-class ship was still sitting in space dock but only because someone had made off with the dilithium crystals that powered her. John Winchester was organizing a militia of sorts, allowing the star base's security officer to batten down the hatches.

Pike had lost contact with every admiral in the Fleet except Vance, who had wisely ducked onto the _Los Angeles_ as the big ship passed him by at Starbase 3. Earth was under siege but holding steady last Pike had heard. Still, Pike had had communications cut off so that Starbase 5 wouldn't draw attention to itself. He didn't trust the system any more. There were too many holes. If Sam or Uhura were here to say the communications transmissions were clean, it would be a different story.

Still, there was nothing stopping them from passively monitoring the news transmissions, the only thing that seemed to be working these days. And the news was all bad. Romulans and Klingons were making bold forays to Federation worlds and establishing themselves there. Evidence of a central leader lurked in the shadows. Someone was giving the Federation's enemies direction. Not orders, precisely (as was clear when one gung-ho Klingon ship broke off their sensor sweep and picked a fight with the _Washington_) but definite strategic guidance.

Riots were breaking out. Civilians were dying. Starfleet was being looked to for guidance and any person in authority with a lick of sense wasn't overreaching themselves trying to be a hero. Pike's communicator had been vibrating off the hook until Miyuki couldn't field the desperate calls for help anymore. Pike had friends scattered across the galaxy and most of them were looking to him for help.

Right now, all he could protect was this one little star base and even that wasn't a sure thing. A twinge of pain ran up the back of his legs and he shuffled his feet against the memory of that accursed worm working its way into his body. In order for anyone to do anything, they needed to regroup and right now he was fighting a purely defensive battle.

"Sir?" Miyuki asked through the intercom.

"Yes?" he replied wearily.

"Joanna is here, sir. She has something for you."

McCoy's little sweetheart? "Send her in."

Pike turned around and tried to rearrange his face into something less depressed. His jaw dropped.

Joanna McCoy was dressed like a very adorable pirate, eyepatch and all. Pike had heard about the Disney World 4 fiasco* and the little girl's confidence. "Arrr," she growled and then coughed a little, continuing in her real voice. "Grandpa John says you need a plan and Uncle Dean says I'm good at plans so I came to tell you all about it. I'm Captain Jo-jo, supreme commander of the stars and seas." She crossed her arms importantly, a twinkle in her eye.

Pike gestured to his big chair with a flourish and her eyes widened in excitement. Plopping into the admiral's chair, she poked at the holographic map of the sector they were in. "Grandpa John says we're not in a good spot," she began knowledgeably. "They're expecting us to hide."

"And?" Pike asked seriously, sitting in the visitor's chair and beginning to enjoy himself.

Jo-jo leaned forward very seriously. "We must embrace one of the oldest and noblest of pirate traditions – we must fight. To run away."

Pike drummed his fingers on his desk. "We don't have a ship."

Joanna stared at him like he was slow. "We're in space. We don't need much power to hide, especially if we're not in a hurry. I learned that in school last year."

He stared back at the small mite. She was right! It was basic zero gravity physics and he couldn't believe he'd forgotten it. Getting a star base to move wasn't hard. That was why it was so easy for a small deep-space tug to move a huge cargo mass. As long as you weren't in any sort of hurry, it could be possible to move the star base to a hidden location. For example, if they moved the star base a few hundred kilometres, it would actually be located in the asteroid field nearby. The star base was primarily a scientific research and ore-mining facility. Placing the star base in the field itself made no tactical sense prior to the stock market crash because then only a Constitution-class vessel could contact her.

Now, of course, that was precisely what Pike wanted and it had taken the wisdom of a child to point it out. She had disregarded all the 'complications' and cut through to the best solution. The chief engineer should be able to jury-rig some sort of propulsion system.

He let Jo-jo stay and watch with wonder as he barked orders with a renewed vigour. It took them forty-eight hours to cannibalize a series of propulsion engines capable of pushing the star base into its new hiding spot. They finished none too soon. Just as the asteroids settled around Starbase 5, released from the shuttles that had been pulling them back into the clear path the star base had created when she pushed her way in, a small squadron of Klingon ships arrived in close proximity to the asteroid field. The star base was immediately spotted but like a turtle, she currently had an impenetrable shell.

Pike sat in his office again, watching the warbirds probe futilely at the dense asteroid field. They wouldn't get in. Even a Constellation-class cruiser would think twice. Pike still gritted his teeth. He had saved all the people here but now he was trapped.

How many would die while he sat stagnant and safe in this steel coffin?

* * *

_Washington_

"Why…couldn't…_Impala_ share?" Dinozzo demanded through gritted teeth as he piloted desperately through the hail of Romulan ships trying to corner the _Washington_. "We could use an Atlantean shield right about now. Jumping to warp, captain."

"Go," Gibbs ordered.

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief when the stars blurred around them. "What a damn mess," Dinozzo muttered and Gibbs let it slide. His crew was exhausted. Most Starfleet ships had taken up stationary positions around defendable star bases, giving them time to regroup, to sleep without fear of being snuck up on. _Washington_ was still trying to hunt down Lucifer and it wasn't going well. They had gotten a bead on him a few days ago but that had taken them into Romulan infested space. _Washington _had been on the hop ever since.

"McGee, find us a hiding spot," Gibbs requested. They needed the downtime. Abby had actually snapped at her beloved engineering crew and broken a tool on the sputtering shield generators. Gibbs couldn't remember the last time Abby had broken a tool and she'd been keeping his ships running for years.

"Got one boss," McGee reported wearily, rubbing at his red eyes.

"Park us there Dinozzo and then get the night shift up here. We'll restart the search in twelve hours."

He shepherded his exhausted crew off the bridge and went down to dig Abby out of the engines. A haggard lieutenant pointed in the direction of the abused shield generators where Abby was mournfully apologizing to both the tool and the generator for losing her temper. "Hey Abs," Gibbs said cheerfully despite his own exhaustion. "Come on, up and at'em. The generator and the tool will forgive you tomorrow. You need some sleep." She glowered at him and prepared to argue but Gibbs was having none of it. He gently hoisted her up and guided her out of engineering, a firm hand on her elbow.

"What if I missed something?" she whispered after her rant about nasty Romulans trailed off. "What if McGee and I missed something and Lucifer is free because of us?" Ah, there was the real problem.

"I don't think you did," Gibbs said gruffly, "but you'll take another run at the evidence in the morning after you fix the shield generator. If there's something to find, you'll find it." Abby yawned catastrophically wide and Gibbs actually heard her jaw pop. "No staying up to work on it in your room either."

"Got it," she drawled sleepily and padded into her quarters.

He checked infirmary next. Ducky had gone off shift like a sensible physician, leaving talkative Dr. Palmer on duty.

Gibbs should have gone to bed after that but despite the fatigue building up, his brain just wouldn't shut off. Was chasing a ghost really the best use of _Washington_'s resources? The galaxy was falling apart – reports were rolling in about casualties, about entire systems dissolving into anarchy as greed, fear, malice and anger ran rampant. Perhaps _Washington _should join the Earth blockade. But no, that was just a stop-gap technique. If he ran down Lucifer, he had to trust that Sam Winchester would get _Enterprise_ and his brother back. As the flagship, _Enterprise_ was a rallying point – if she showed up and told the entire Federation to get a grip the way Gibbs wanted to, the Federation would get a grip. In order for that to happen, she had to be free of Lucifer's threat. Gibbs would only catch the bastard if Gibbs was at his best.

So despite his buzzing thoughts, the _Washington_'s captain paced down the hallway to his quarters. Sleep first. Look after himself so he could look after the crew so they could do their part to clean up this mess.

* * *

_Enterprise_

"Don't be a damn fool," Kirk growled. "You do not have to die right here, right now. Chekov, lock onto the moron and hold him in the transporter buffer so he can't hurt himself."

Sam paled and Kirk squinted at the man. There was something off about him. Sam hadn't had a knife scar on his left cheek. At least not one several years old. "Sam?" he asked inquiringly, curiosity getting the better of him. The man was most definitely Sam but now that he looked closer, Kirk could see that Sam's shoulders were bowed and there was a dim veil over the usually sharp eyes. This was not their Sam Winchester. "Belay that, Mr. Chekov. Talk to me Sam and do it now. Firstly, who the hell are you really?"

Not-Sam pulled himself into the captain's chair on his smoking, battered ship. "I'm Sam Winchester," he admitted, "but not the one you know."

"I gathered as much." Kirk scowled. "Keep talking, alternate Sam."

Alt-Sam sighed. "It started eight years ago. At least, I think it did. In my universe, the stock market crashed. Instead of sending _Washington_ to look for Lucifer, the _Enterprise_ was drafted. _Washington_ disappeared, probably in the same time slip you encountered. It doesn't matter. _Enterprise_ got damn close to snagging Lucifer. Too close. I still don't know what happened, not entirely. We found the message buoy a week later." Alt-Sam swallowed. "Somehow, Lucifer had sucked the entire ship into a yellow star. All hands were lost."

Kirk's heart pounded and activity on the bridge stilled. "We're dead?" he asked hoarsely. Alt-Sam shrugged listlessly. "That's just retarded," Kirk blurted indignantly. "I let us get yanked into a star? That's…that's…" He sputtered for a moment longer.

Alt-Sam's hand crept up to cover his forehead, rubbing at a nasty bruise. "You have no idea how much it hurts to hear you talk," he rasped. "You left the last message personally, you know. It nearly killed Dean to listen to it. He became – that's not true. We _all_ became obsessed with hunting Lucifer down. It was revenge, pure and simple. We let the whole Federation burn around us as we chased him around the galaxy. Lucifer left a trail of massacres in his wake. I stopped off on Earth to try and gain some new recruits while Dean took a short jaunt over to Mars. The _Impala_ needed some new dilithium crystals." Alt-Sam paused. "Lucifer blew up the whole planet just to kill my brother."

The bridge was dead silent.

Alt-Sam took a shuddering breath and continued. "I saw everything. I was laughing at Dean's latest retarded joke via communications, waiting for them to pick me up. I could see them on the long-range scanner. And then the whole screen flared white and when I switched from scanner to long-range vid, all I could find were rocks and shattered metal."

Damn. Kirk took a deep breath. And another. "So?"

"Lucifer caught me," Alt-Sam said with a ghastly smile. "He caught me and when it turned out that I was more interesting than he was, his partner killed Lucifer."

"Partner, what partner?" Kirk demanded. They needed that information.

"Crowley," alt-Sam shuddered. "His name is Crowley. He kept me like a dog as he destroyed planet after planet just because he could. Fortunately," his voice choked hysterically over that word, "he explained everything to me so that when your Sam rigged up his half-assed, Walmart-issue time machine and accidentally ripped me out of my reality, I knew enough. I told him what I'm telling you and waited until he left me alone with the time machine. I recalibrated it and took it with me when I hopped back in time to grab you. My calibration wasn't as accurate as I'd hoped, so I've been waiting for about five years for you to show up. The Vulcans think I'm crazy but my losses have made me a damn useful resource, so here I am with my falling apart ship. I've dodged entropic cascade this far but I'd rather not experience its slow, painful death, so," he closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair. "Can I die now?" alt-Sam asked hollowly.

"Sure," a raspy, familiar voice startled alt-Sam right out of his chair. "Go ahead. Damn coward." Dean Winchester's jaw was tight, muscle jumping along it, his eyes bright and hard. "From what I understand, my – other me's – death is no way your fault. In fact, if I met that me, I'd knock his ass into next week for not keeping his eyes open. But you, you're my _brother_. If you end up wherever we go after death and you're dead because you wanted to escape living, I'd be pissed for eternity. We're Winchesters. We get knocked down, we get kicked in the balls but we stand up when the bell rings for the next round because we've got either the courage or the stubbornness to do so where other people don't. You're a Starfleet officer that's needed in the here and now. I've been talking to your men downstairs. They're a little scientific for me personally but they'll follow you in to hell. In fact, they're of the belief that's exactly what happened and they're still spitting piss and vinegar unless we return you to them. So you go ahead. You die on them." Dean leaned forward, hands fisted on the _Enterprise_'s back rail. "_You leave them just like I left you._"

Alt-Sam flinched and shuddered, emotional pain wracking him like a seizure. "You…you _bastard_."

Dean kept hammering. "I am a bastard. I am most definitely a bastard for getting myself killed," and suddenly Jim knew that Dean Winchester would never, ever die on their Sam, not after witnessing this broken shell of a man, "but that does not give you the right to make the same shit decisions I did. Get it? Now, get your ass off the floor because you are being transported over to this ship. That's an _order_, Commander."

Kirk nodded to Chekov. "Straight to Bones," Kirk ordered quietly. "Play all of this on vid for him. He's got a real mess to straighten out." Chekov nodded, his face ashen. Alt-Sam was successfully transported over and _Enterprise_ backed up to a safe distance just before the Vulcan ship exploded. "Spock, Dean, with me," Kirk ordered. "Mr. Sulu, you have the conn." Rattled, Sulu nodded and gripped his pilot's console hard to hide the fact that his usually rock-steady hands were shaking like an old man's.

It was proof of how upset Dean really was when he followed Kirk's order compliantly now that the first rush of fear, anger and grief had sapped him of the adrenaline-fuelled strength. He tagged along after Kirk and Spock like a lost kite. Kirk paused outside the infirmary. "Spock, I need you to convince alt-Sam's men that we're allies. Naturally, you will have to come up with some sort of plausible story."

Spock arched an eyebrow. "Captain, I cannot tell a lie."

"Exactly," Kirk replied. "I want that credibility on our side. I know you can get creative with the truth – tell them what they need to hear to believe us but make sure they don't know too much, understood? We're playing with history here and it could have huge ramifications."

Spock's mouth thinned just a fraction but he nodded in understanding. "Very well, captain." The Vulcan strode off and Kirk could already smell the smoke coming out of his first officer's ears. Spock would have to think very carefully about what he had to say and he'd probably enjoy it, even if he'd never admit it.

"Dean. Dean-o," Jim said, laying a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Talk to me."

Dean was standing in the darkest corner of the corridor, his eyes shadowed. "What the hell kind of man was that Dean Winchester?" he asked in a deadened tone of voice. "And what does that say about me?"

"Hey. _Hey_. Look at me. He is not you. He is _not_ you. There is no way that's possible. Look me in the eye and tell me you'd abandon the _Washington_ to nothingness just to hunt down the bastard who had killed me. I know you. You'd find _Washington_ first because that crew might have been alive. Then you'd have gone after Lucifer and you'd have kicked his screaming ass into hell personally." Jim put every ounce of belief he possessed into that statement. "I know that because it's what I'd do and our priorities run on the same track. Different reality, man. Different reality, different people, different decisions, different lives."

"You believe that?" Dean asked.

"Damn straight I do. Alt-Sam didn't say a thing about SG-1."

"So?" Dean asked with the first stirring of courage.

"SG-1 are good friends of ours. There's no way they'd leave us in the lurch like that. That's a key difference in the sequence of events. They never knew SG-1, never had the knowledge we do or the resources through SG-1. Hell, I'll bet the first person that jumped to Sam's mind when he thought about alternate realities and time travel was Sam Carter." Jim watched hope brighten in Dean's face.

"Yeah, you're right."

"Of course I'm right, dumbass."

"So I should go in there and put that Sam back together."

Kirk nodded emphatically. "He wouldn't have been able to befriend so many Vulcans if he hadn't been clinging to some sort of hope. He's not lost Dean, and neither are we. We're just in the dark at the moment."

Dean's shoulders straightened. "I know that, you ass. You don't have to remind me." Despite the crass verbal response, his hand rested briefly on Jim's shoulder with a small squeeze of thanks as he strode confidently into the infirmary, his head high and spine determined.

Jim watched him go until he was sure Dean wasn't going to turn around. Then he sagged against the wall.

Now he just had to convince himself that the last little bit was true because they still had no way home. An entire Constitution-class cruiser and one unreliable, kitchen-scrap time machine? No way that was going to work.

There was no one around, no cameras, no worried ensigns, so Jim let go of the captain's persona, just for a second. He stopped forcing himself to hold it all together and allowed himself the luxury of expressing his true feelings in one single word.

"_Shit."_

*_Prank Defencers,_ Chapter 15


	5. Directionality

I do not own Star Trek 2009, Supernatural, NCIS, NCIS: LA or Stargate SG-1.

And I apologize for the delay everyone…those in North America will have heard about the snowstorm that hit Ontario, eastern Canada and the East Coast of the USA. I was stranded at a friend's house away from my computer and have only returned today! *scribbles frantically*

* * *

_Starbase 5_

"Admiral," one of Pike's young lieutenants asked as they sat around a dinner table. Pike made a point of sitting with a different group of individuals every night so he remained connected to them. "How could all this happen when it's just the stock market?" Pike looked up from his mashed potatoes.

"Pardon?" he asked.

The young man flushed a bright pink. "I'm just not sure I understand. It's just the stock market. Why did everything go to hell?"

Pike leaned back in his chair and tried to figure out how best to explain the conundrum. "Son, do you remember studying the Great Depression in history class?" When several heads nodded in agreement, Pike continued. "The price of stock went down drastically, reducing the value of paper wealth. Paper wealth is when an asset is assigned a value based on how much that asset could be sold for. Even in the 1930s, a significant amount of America's wealth was based on that concept – that an asset was valued by how much it could be sold. In comparison, real wealth is something that can be physically possessed, like gold. We've been getting away from real wealth these days because quite frankly, it just isn't practical to possess real wealth when you're Starfleet. It's simply too big."

So far, everyone was following. "When Lucifer took a big chunk out of the Federation's paper wealth, he upset the delicate balance between the Federation and her peers. When the evidence of paper wealth was lost, people panic, beginning with those in the financial sector. When paper wealth evaporates, real wealth becomes a huge priority and there are runs on banks. Those who possess enough real wealth to survive a stock market crash hoard their wealth." Pike gestured to the star base around him. "Suddenly this base becomes the most important thing in our lives because without it we are shelterless and powerless."

The lieutenant nodded slowly. "But if everyone hadn't panicked, the attack could have been mitigated, couldn't it?"

Pike shrugged. "Maybe. But most sentient life doesn't react well to the threat of something so intrinsic. Lucifer knows that. And when Lucifer knocked out the stock market, he took out a big chunk of Starfleet's financial assets as well. Star ships may be worth a lot but their value rapidly depreciates once they show signs of wear and tear. _Enterprise_ may be an expensive chunk of change but Kirk keeps getting holes blown in her. No one would want an unspaceworthy ship unless she was sold for scrap and you wouldn't get your money's worth from a scrapper."

Another ensign raised her hand awkwardly, unsure how to interrupt but clearly with a burning question. "How do we fix it?" she asked.

Suddenly Pike found himself on the business end of an entire table's worth of motivated, idealistic young Starfleeters ready to charge out and save the world. He sighed and stuffed a bite of roast beef into his mouth, giving himself time to think. "There isn't a straight answer," he said slowly after swallowing. "It's not like there is one simple answer. Even if Lucifer is caught, it won't fix the damage. The most we can do is try to return some sort of stability to the Federation." The actions he should take next were preying on his mind. As an admiral, he still had sway and as the commander of a functioning star base, he could take effective action in their current quadrant. The real question was how to direct the ideal youngsters under his command.

"What do you think we should do?" he asked suddenly, turning the lecture into a discussion. Pike sat back and chewed over his vegetables as the table erupted with ideas. Some were improbable, others had feasible merit.

He started taking mental notes.

* * *

_Impala _

Sam scowled at the empty square of space where his prototype had sat. "Damn him," he muttered. His alternate self had been aloof, sad and not very much like Sam himself. Sam should have set a guard on the prototype, recognizing the necessity for such precautions.

"Should have put a guard on it," Carter grumbled. "Sorry," she apologized. Sam shrugged. Alt-Sam hadn't tried to hide his movements and his route showed up clearly on the monitored security cameras but there had been no call to restrict his movements. "We should have known better, having experienced alternate versions of us in the past."

"Well," Sam sighed. "I suppose I have to decide what to do next." Carter perched herself on a tall lab stool, offering an open ear. Stay with SG-1 and try to build the device again from scratch (the thought of which quite frankly gave Sam a headache) or head back into Starfleet space and gather more information from the anomaly itself.

As he talked, Sam glimpsed his crew, wandering rather helplessly around the corner when they weren't furiously studying. "We're _Impala_ crew members," he said suddenly with decisiveness. "Carter, you've been a great help but we can take all the information we need with us. The device can be used anywhere. We're better off hunting for more information than sitting here like stumps."

Carter smiled with understanding and faint amusement. "I wondered how long it would take you to lift off again," she said without taking offense. "I'll tell General Landry. The IOA won't let us come with you this time, though." She pushed a folder of paper across the table. "That report just came in from our monitoring station on the other side." She let him read in horrified silence.

"Good God," he finally exclaimed. "We have to go back now."

"Be careful," Carter said quietly. "You're going to be flying into a hornet's nest and while the _Impala_ is indomitable, she's not indestructible."

Sam nodded as he gathered up PADDs and research in a distracted manner. "Gather up your crew," Carter offered. "I'll take care of this." She shooed Sam out the door, directing him to the 'Gate control room. A broadcast was put out over the intercom and soon _Impala_ members were crowding the 'Gate room and its hallways with their busy chatter, eager to charge out into the universe and find their captain.

"Thanks," Sam said distractedly to General Landry, who took no offense to the lack of formality.

"Glad to help, son. Let us know if we can help," he said with a comforting, fatherly sort of gruffness.

"Beam us up," Sam ordered briskly and remembered to nod again in thanks to the Stargate team before the swirling particles swept him off into the search once more.

* * *

_Washington_

Though he didn't show it, Gibbs was completely frustrated and at his wits' end. The trail ended. The only thing left was a minor trace of sulphur and a few anomalous readings. He turned around to face his command crew, all of whom were showing matching frustration that Gibbs himself was experiencing.

"It's like the bastard disappeared into thin air," Abby snapped and McGee nodded emphatically.

"But we have no evidence to support a conclusive, cogent theory of disappearance," he added and Abby smacked his shoulder.

"Don't remind me of that," she grumbled. "Sensibility is overrated."

That alone decided Gibbs. "We're going to back up Admiral Pike," he said quietly but clearly. Everyone froze.

"Gibbs?" Dinozzo asked.

"He's led us on a chase for too long and we're getting nowhere. That'll feed Lucifer's ego. We're not capable of getting ahead of him this way. Pike will make use of us. Turn this tub around," Gibbs ordered calmly. "Dinozzo."

The first officer snapped to attention on pure reflex. "Yes sir."

Letting go of the chase burned in Gibbs' throat but watching the tension leak out of his crew confirmed his decision. Tearing them apart wasn't worth finding the miserable bastard. He knew them – they wouldn't let it go. Abby and McGee would figure out what happened but if he took the pressure off, they would figure it out without added stress.

That and if the scuttlebutt was right, Pike was a sitting duck in Starbase 5. This was the right decision.

He'd keep telling himself that until he was blue in the face.

* * *

_Enterprise_

Dean watched through the closed infirmary doors as McCoy adjusted some complicated piece of medical equipment over a drugged alt-Sam.

He knew Kirk was debating what action to take next. He should be worried as well. But right now, Dean's sole focus was on the battered, crumbling man who had had to be sedated until McCoy determined an effective course of action. Dean's teeth ground and he tried to swallow the hot anger that boiled up every time he thought of alt-Dean. He wasn't a sentimental man, nor one inclined to coddle anyone, least of all his brother. But Dean Winchester also knew how to treasure family. Letting his personal feelings of revenge and rage take over to the point where his family suffered? To the point of death? Dean might be an insensitive ass but the idea of getting his whole crew killed was repulsive, repugnant and utterly wrong.

Which brought him to the conundrum of what to do with alt-Sam. The sentiment felt awful but two Sams in the same universe would result in entropic cascade. Since Dr. McCoy had quite literally locked him out of the infirmary, Dean wandered down to the brig where Sam's crew of Vulcans waited, simmering in anger and concern. It was odd to see Vulcans so emotional and trying to hard to pack it away. Clearly they agreed with Surak but had not entirely learned to suppress their wild feelings.

Dean stepped forward and singled out the first officer while switching on a translator. It wasn't hard to spot the man. "You," Dean pointed. "Sam's man." The Vulcan snarled at Dean. "How long have you served Sam?"

The Vulcan gestured angrily in what was probably a forgotten, rather rude gesture. Dean settled himself into a squared, solid stance and skewered the man with a keen captain's eye. The Vulcan paused, clearly surprised. "How long?" Dean demanded.

Reluctantly, the Vulcan replied, "Five years."

Five years? That was how long alt-Sam had been stranded here? Hell.

On the other hand, Dean reflected in a heartbeat later, alt-Sam had clearly been his typical Sam-self despite the grief and hurt, drawing people to him through Sam's willingness to take on everything in a vain attempt to save everyone. It could present a solution. Take alt-Sam away from all things jarringly painful and similar to something new, where he was valued for who he was and not who he wasn't.

It could work, as long as Dean was reasonably certain that he would be leaving behind a Sam who was healing, not merely coping. He nodded to the still-confused Vulcan and returned to the infirmary, determined to break into Bones' domain single-handedly if necessary.

To his surprise, the doors whooshed open without pause. He suppressed his startled reaction and charged through. Alt-Sam was sitting up, conscious and alert, listening to Dr. McCoy. Dean paused, assessing reactions like a captain even as he packed away his gut reaction to throttle whoever had reduced his alt-brother to this state. Especially since that person was himself in another reality.

"Captain Winchester," McCoy began with uncustomary formality. "Sam would like a word." Dean startled forward, feeling like a bull in a china shop.

McCoy shot him a warning glance and faded into his office.

"I'm not going back with you," alt-Sam said with a broken finality.

Dean nodded agreeably. "I get it."

Alt-Sam blinked. "You do?" Dean continued to nod, feeling like a bobble-head doll. Alt-Sam stared and Dean swallowed, trying to think of a way to tell everything without turning things into a chick-flick moment.

"Your men need you," he began. That would be easiest method of motivating Dean himself and Dean reckoned at this point, alt-Sam was more like Dean himself than the Sam Dean knew. "The Vulcans down in the brig need you. You're their captain. Hell, I'm not sure how much longer Jim can hold them before they break out and come to get you."

Alt-Sam blinked furiously and Dean tried not to fidget. "You're a good man," Alt-Sam said quietly, voice trembling with emotion. "Better than my brother and I don't know how that's possible."

Dean was fishing for something to say when the whole ship suddenly shuddered and the alarms started whooping wildly. "Keep him there and in one piece!" Dean ordered to Bones, who was already darting around the infirmary making sure it was ready for casualties. The CMO nodded distractedly and alt-Sam stared ahead without expression. Dean darted through the hallways and up onto the bridge just in time for the ship to rock again under fire.

"What the hell?" he demanded.

"Raptors," Jim snapped shortly. "Pretty sure they followed alt-Sam but don't tell him that. Sulu, don't let them get away! We can't let word of our existence get out."

The Raptors were not a small scout force. Clearly alt-Sam had made an impression on his enemies in five years because they came in with all phasers firing. "Shields?" Kirk asked.

"Holding, keptin, but ve cannot endure forever!" Chekov's fingers were dancing across the consoles.

Kirk rattled his fingers against his chair arm, thinking furiously. "Dean?"

"Gotta fight here, Kirk or we'll never make it home again," the other captain put in his two cents. "That and Spock still hasn't figured out that anomaly. Leaving behind a mystery would kill him."

Kirk laughed. "You heard the man. Let's win this."

It really wasn't fair. Once the _Enterprise_ had decided to go on the offensive, the Raptors were outclassed and outmatched. "Captain," Uhura called as the final warbird exploded, "they managed to get out an SOS."

"You weren't jamming?" Kirk asked, very aware that his communications officer would take offense to that question. Sure enough, she sat bolt upright and shot him a glare the likes of which he hadn't seen since the _Narada_ incident.

"Of course I was but I'm afraid they used a low-tech version we discarded because it was so very easy to hack. I wasn't looking for it." The last words were said with self-acrimony.

Kirk waved off her silent apology. "Don't worry about it, Uhura. We're all out of our depth here. Mr. Chekov, let me know when someone comes to check out that SOS message they sent. Spock, get on that anomaly. We have got to get out of here."

The Vulcan first officer practically scowled in determination, a new fire lit under his tail. "Mr. Scott," Kirk continued. "We need that cloak back up and keep it up!"

"_Aye, capt'n."_

Dean didn't wait around. Kirk was busy keeping their asses alive, so it was up to Dean to figure out what to do with their guests. He found himself back in the infirmary, staring at his not-brother. Alt-Sam was looking better, his eyes lighter but still burdened. "Better?" Dean asked.

"Not doing worse," Alt-Sam replied hoarsely. Dean could accept that. It wasn't a bad answer.

"Come with me," Dean said, trailing his not-brother along like a kite. Before long, Alt-Sam was standing in the brig, leaning rather unwillingly on Dean's shoulder as his injured leg wobbled unsteadily. The crew in the cell leapt to their feet and hovered within millimeters of the security screen, blurting questions in Vulcan at their commander. Dean slid back into the shadows as Alt-Sam's shoulders straightened, gaining a sense of belonging even as Dean watched. Good. This was good.

"We can drop you off at a neutral location," Dean offered when there was a lull in the conversation. Alt-Sam startled at the sound of his not-brother's voice. He turned on his heel, a commander between an unknown factor and his crew. It was good to see. Alt-Sam would be all right eventually. "We can also give you enough credit to pick up a ship," Dean offered.

Alt-Sam relaxed fractionally. "I'll get Kirk to let your boys out as long as you promise to keep them in a restricted area. We can't have them peeking into the future," Dean continued. Alt-Sam nodded, growing into a fresh sense of purpose.

Yeah, he'd be all right, Dean thought. Now that his brother was sorted, they just had to get themselves back into the right time.

* * *

_Impala_

Sam stared in horror. They knew it was bad intellectually but that was nothing compared to actually seeing it. Starbase 3 was already being torn apart by enterprising scrappers who were laying claim to it in lieu of their more powerful employers, to whom Starfleet owed money that, in the course of normal economic times, would have been easily paid off.

"Commander," Shari barked from the communications station. "We're about to be boarded and chopped up just like that 'base!"

Sam cursed. "Get us out of here now, Cas. Detour through the closest nebula and shake our tails."

It was almost too late. Most of the ships were weaker and smaller than the _Impala_ but their numbers were far greater. "Taking over the phasers," Sam declared formally, stepping into Ash's usual chair with ease.

"Incoming hail from the _Serenity_," Shari announced. "Says to and I quote 'get your fat Starfleet ass behind this moon before they shoot you full of _gorram_ holes.'" When Sam glanced over at her, she had a cheeky glint in her eye as the environment on the bridge lightened. He appreciated what Shari and Mal had just done.

"Well, hop to it Cas," Sam ordered with a lighter heart. The _Impala_ skipped through the tiniest of holes and darted around the moon. _Serenity_ waggled her odd, alternate universe tail and hopped to warp speed. _Impala _followed, cluing in immediately.

"_Sam, you stupid ass," _Mal greeted agreeably once the ships were relatively safe. His crew looked a little more rag-tag than normal but relatively unsettled by the massive upheaval in orderly Federation affairs. _"Where's your idiot brother and how the hell did you let this happen to the Federation?"_

"Dean, Ash and the _Enterprise_ disappeared into an anomaly about a week ago," Sam replied. "The stock market crashed after that while I was busy trying to find them." Mal whistled, long and slow.

"_Well,"_ he drawled. _"You're on my side of the law now. Better teach you the ropes so that when Dean shows up, you've got a ship and crew to give back to him."_ Sam bristled in indignation. He was not some kid brother to be looked after. Mal grinned at him over the viewscreen, knowing exactly what was going through Sam's head. For the _Impala_'s sake, Sam gritted his teeth and nodded to the smirking free-trading captain.

"Jackass," he snapped immaturely, knowing that would prove Mal's point. "Fine. But we stop by the time-space anomaly first. I want another look."


	6. Changing History

I do not own Star Trek 2009, Supernatural, NCIS, NCIS: LA or Firefly.

I don't have an excuse for dropping off the face of the earth. It just happens and all I can say is I'm really sorry that I left you all hanging. Wrist strain from over-typing at my job didn't help things any.

However, you may thank the persistent mudkipz for continually poking me until my guiltily hibernating muse groggily returned to the land of the semi-coherent.

To the excellent and admirable mudkipz: You are an unsung hero. If I do disappear again, feel free to a) wash your hands of me in sheer exasperation or b) keep on poking. I would prefer option b) myself.

* * *

_Washington_

"Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs!" Abby blurted as she hurtled through the _Washington_'s corridors with rejuvenated enthusiasm. "I figured it out!"

Gibbs glanced up from his weekly personnel reports, halting his hydroponics officer with a raised hand as the vibrant engineering chief waved a PADD excitedly, oblivious to her abrupt interruption. "Figured what out, Abs?" he asked calmly.

"The sulphur," she whispered conspiratorially. Gibbs felt his eyebrows shoot up in spite of himself. Clearly she had put the past five days docked in relative peace at Starbase 5 to what she considered good use.

"I thought we decided that wasn't important, Abby."

Abby shot him a disappointed glance. "Gibbs, a mystery is _always_ important. Sometimes though, you have to let the mystery open itself up to you instead of forcing yourself on it." She flourished her hands dramatically and Gibbs let himself chuckle inside at her phrasing as the rather young hydroponics officer flushed red.

"All right, lay it on me."

Abby shook her head. "It needs proper presentation. In the ready room."

"_Abs._"

"Seriously, Gibbs. It's complicated. I know, I know, you'll barely manage to contain your boundless enthusiasm but the visual aids are important. You have to be there. Now." She practically danced on the spot and Gibbs absently noted she was (again) wearing her non-regulation, steel-toed platform punk boots.

"Get everyone together then and give me five minutes to finish up here," he decided, returning his attention to the report at hand.

* * *

When Gibbs made it up to the ready room, the rest of the senior bridge crew was already waiting for him. In his usual brisk manner, he dove into the heart of the room, ignoring the captain's chair to stand in front of the screen. "Talk to me, Abs."

Abby took a deep breath. "First, I must ask you all to suspend your disbelief and let me get through this without interruption."

"Abby, if this is part of that whacked morals-are-directly-related-to-facial-hair conspiracy, I have piloting simulations to run and that cute little docking officer to console about the end of the universe, if you know what I mean," Tony said in a world-weary tone of voice and a leering eyebrow waggle.

"That _theory_ is totally and completely valid and I am going to publish on it as soon as I get enough evidence, but no," Abby said severely. "This has nothing to do with that. And your docking officer really isn't interested. She likes Orions."

Tony sputtered as Abby spun on one foot and cleared her throat. "Okay. Here goes." She clicked her little remote and the screen sprang to life.

"Demons: A Scientific Proposal?" McGee read in disbelief. "Seriously?"

"Hey! What did I say about questions?" Abby snipped, already flicking through to the next slide. "It's not actually demons. The title just looks cooler on the screen."

"Seriously captain?" Dinozzo complained.

Gibbs was examining the slide on the wall with his usual equanimity. "Keep going, Abs."

The quirky engineer shot the rest of the room a quelling, superior glance and started talking at the speed of light. "There's a pattern in galactic history of unexplained events." Serious this time, she held up a hand when Dinozzo looked to jump in again. "Fact one: these events occurred. Fact two: a significant number of them involved a strange residue, our friend the ancient sulphur. Fact three: all of the events involved unsolved disappearances."

Abby glanced around the room and was satisfied to see everyone sitting forward in their seats. "Now, this is where the conjecture comes in. The theory has a lot of holes. I still don't have enough information but the pattern holds true. There is an entity or force in the universe capable of transporting people, ships and in one notable event, a whole scientific laboratory into thin air. Sometimes the people return, the ships and the buildings do not. Returnee witnesses cannot provide any pertinent information nor can they even remotely explain what happened as," she paused on one particularly disturbing picture of a flayed corpse, "43% of returnees were stark raving mad and the other 57% were dead on arrival. Also, the entity has left behind sulphur at 64% of the sites that we know of. I'm of the belief that it wasn't picked up at the other sites simply because they weren't looking for it."

"And you think this is what happened to _Enterprise_," Gibbs finished. Abby flashed through a series of graphs and short paragraphs further detailing the history of their phenomenon.

"I'm afraid so," she said more quietly. "Each of the individuals abducted wielded great power in some shape or form. You can't deny that _Enterprise _has gained a reputation for fixing bad situations. Also," Abby nodded towards Dr. Mallard, "Ducky has come up with a rather scary set of conclusions."

The esteemed doctor nodded. "It was a rather unusual request but Abigail managed to scrape up enough data for me to put together a profile. Gibbs, if this is indeed an individual instead of a mindless force of nature, it is a disturbed one. It thrives on snatching those who represent hope and in many cases, mangles those symbols until there is nothing left of them. Also, given the fact that these incidents span centuries, you are either dealing with a highly controlled entity or a strict heredity regime hell-bent on producing an individual capable of carrying on their as of yet unknown agenda."

"Still think I'm nuts?" Abby asked snippily, breaking the tension in the room.

Tony was the first one to shake his head. "Abby, only you could make demons sound rational. McGeek, what do you think?"

McGee was busy tapping away at his PADD. "I think it's better than anything else we've come up with, even if it's a fringe theory. No offense, Abby."

Abby practically bounced on one foot. "Well of course not. I _know_ it's a whacked theory. But it's a good whacked theory."

"All right, so what can this do for us, Abs?" the captain asked, bringing the conversation back on topic.

Abby shrugged with beautiful indifference. "How should I know? I just bring you the information."

"_Abby,"_ Gibbs growled.

"Okay, fine. I'm not entirely sure if it'll work but I think the key lies in the original anomaly that Sam Winchester was babysitting before he and the _Impala_ ceased to exist. Sam knows the most about it (except maybe Jim and Dean and Spock, since they went through it). Also, he has the original readings. Theoretically, it should be possible to follow the constant through space and time like a path. The only catch is I don't exactly know if it's a one-way street or not. Buuuuut," she drawled with more hope, "there shouldn't be any reason why we can't follow ancient sulphur back to its' evil origins. It's not like it's a common dilithium trail or anything."

The whole room was dead silent, considering the implications.

"I see no other choice. We must contact the _Impala_, dangle enough bait in front of whatever this entity is and capture it," Ziva concluded with admirable brevity.

"Oh, trust the former Mossad agent to come up with the unhealthy option," Tony muttered but there was no real heat to his tone.

"I also know how to get in contact with the _Impala_," Ziva continued. "However, they are in a rather awkward position at the moment."

* * *

_Impala_

"What do you mean, we have to give them a dilithium crystal?" Sam demanded sharply, knuckles whitening on his brother's captain chair.

Kaylee didn't even blink. _"I'm telling you, we need a bribe and Serenity's parts are useless in this sort of transaction."_

"Well goody for you but Starfleet will have my ass on a platter if I run around handing out key bits of military technology!"

Kaylee arched an eyebrow. _"Starfleet is on the ropes. They won't miss one measly little crystal."_

"And my _brother_?" Sam squawked. "Oh, hey, sorry Dean, I gutted your ship to pay some asshat in the backwoods of freakin' nowhere so we'd have somewhere to _park_ for twenty four hours!"

Kaylee did grimace a little at the thought of bumping into an irate Dean Winchester. "_Well, it's the dilithium crystal or half our cargo plus your sensor array. They'd really prefer the crystal."_

Sam glowered at the unrepentant engineer, knowing that she was right. They needed somewhere to hide before an enterprising group of pirates descended en masse on the _Impala _and ripped her apart for scrap. Hell, _Serenity_ was already drawing too much attention to herself as it was as her crew covered for one of the more recognizable _Miranda_-class ships in Federation space.

"Commander?" Jo broke into Sam's thoughts as Kaylee helpfully ignored the decision he would have to make, rather guiltily glad Mal and _Serenity_ weren't in Sam's boots. "We have incoming encrypted traffic from _Washington._ Text only."

Sam scowled and pulled it up. Wishful thinking said it would be good news. Reality dictated it would be bad. "Huh," Sam mused after reading the message from Ziva. It was neither good nor bad. It was a starting point. A tangible lead.

"Jo, get Ash up here. We're returning to where _Enterprise_ vanished. I need the sensor nets recalibrated. Kaylee, tell Mal thanks a bunch but we have a new lead," Sam ordered crisply.

"_Whoa, whoa there, Starfleet. Where you go, we go."_ Mal gently nudged Kaylee out of the screen and nailed Sam with a hard glance. _"We might have picked up warp drive but we still haven't gotten the capital or permits necessary for armament. You, on the other hand, can knock the stuffing out of just about anyone. You're our bodyguard until further notice, since we saved your ass."_

Sam eyed the trader captain thoughtfully. "Fair enough. And your sensors are pretty damn good." Mal shrugged. "Fine. This is what Ziva sent me. Make of it what you will, but if there's even a hint of that sulphur near the anomaly, we're going to find it."

* * *

Five days later, both ships were nosing around the sphere of space containing the planet and its ship-grabbing enigma. _"Huh,"_ Mal commented. _"That squiggly line of energy is new. Kaylee, you ever seen anything like it?"_ The engineer shrugged. _"River? Nada? _Impala_, we've officially got squat."_

"Keep looking. You've only been here five minutes," Sam scowled. "Ash, do the scans from last time match up? Anything new?"

"Zilch, Commander. Same uninformative anomaly as before." Ash drummed restless fingers on his console. "Scanning for Abby's freaky sulphur now." There was a tense silence on the _Impala_ while the curious _Serenity_ nosed around the anomaly.

"Don't get too close," Sam warned needlessly.

"_Stop worrying, mother hen,"_ Zoe chided when it became clear Mal was too busy helping Kaylee abuse their equipment into compliance.

"Sam, I've got something. I've really got something," Ash interrupted, his voice humming with tension, almost afraid of hoping. "We didn't pick it up last time because why the hell would we be looking for plain sulphur? And we're in a low traffic area of space so we can still extrapolate the trail."

"We have something to chase. Ash, I want us following that trail as fast as possible."

"On it."

* * *

_Unknown location_

"Well, well, well," an amused voice drawled. "Took them long enough."

"Are you going to give the _Enterprise_ back?" Lucifer asked, idly spinning a razor-sharp vibroblade around his fingers.

"I'm not sure yet."

"As long as I get dearest Sammy."

"Patience, my pet, is a virtue. We can afford to let the _Enterprise_ bumble around for a bit. Who knows, they might have a little history collision. Nothing new has popped up in the textbooks as of late, but it is early. _Enterprise_ is too explosive to _not_ get into trouble. I'd love to see what sort of havoc they'd wreak if they bumped into some very angry Romulans. They've…civilized so, since those times. I wonder how many men the famed Captain Kirk would lose? Would the decks of the _Enterprise_ run red with her heart's blood? If _Enterprise_ does show up in history, we can go back and watch. Perhaps bring your beloved Samuel with us, just so he can squirm like a helpless worm."

The thought made both beings chuckle in anticipation.

* * *

_Secure Starfleet location_

Gabriel tipped back in his cushioned seat. "You want me to what now?" he drawled, propping his boots insolently on the polished desk.

"Fix this whole…issue."

"You do understand I'm just one measly little spy."

"Precisely. If you do not handle this with utmost delicacy, tact and success, you are easily eliminated. Which would be lamentable in light of your effective skill set."

"And you don't give a damn about how I do it or what the long-term ramifications might be?"

"We do not. Those can be handled in the long-term. You have a deadline of three weeks."

Gabriel's eyebrows hit his hairline. "Pardon? Three _weeks_? Months would be better. Hell, months would be feasible! Weeks is asking for a miracle!"

"After three weeks, the economic damage becomes permanent."

Gabriel's boots hit the floor. "I'll need the _Los Angeles_ and the sort of ambiguous paperwork that lets their twitchy consciences lie easy. They're the only crew with the right background and understanding of how this sort of thing works. _Enterprise_ would just stuff me in the nearest photon torpedo and have done with it."

"_Enterprise _is still black and white, then. Unfortunate. They're excellent at smashing through barriers. Too bad they can't see the world through our eyes. _Los Angeles_ is yours. Be warned: if you tell them too much, we'll expect you to…handle them. Permanently."

"I'll see what I can do. You might be the only one satisfied with the outcome, though."

"As long as you get the Federation on its feet again."

"Understood."

* * *

_Enterprise_

"How long can we lurk around here before the Romulans come looking?" Kirk asked the bridge at large, not really expecting an answer.

"It depends on where they sent that message, captain," Uhura offered. "It could be as short as a day, it could be as long as three weeks."

"Right. Chekov, where's the closest empty sector of space?"

Chekov had already been brainstorming and popped up a chart on the closest screen. "Approximately here, keptin. Unfortunately it is not a wery big sector. There is a lot of traffic moving through the area ve are in. If ve really vanted to get out of de vay, ve vould have to move at least one week's journey at varp 6 in this direction."

"You're right, that is really out of the way," Kirk mused. "Too far to get in immediate contact if anyone from our time shows up or the anomaly fluctuates noticeably."

"We could set up a sensor relay using buoys," Sulu suggested.

Kirk wrinkled his nose in dislike. "And leave a breadcrumb trail straight to us."

Sulu shrugged. The captain wasn't shooting him down, just raising a valid point.

"Scotty?"

"_Aye, capt'n?"_

"How long is that cloak good for?"

"_Twelve hours would be pushing her, capt'n."_

Kirk scowled at the starry viewscreen. He didn't like sitting on his hands but even he had to admit, there was nothing regarding the anomaly on their end. It was like being transported down to a planet. No matter how hard you looked, once you were on the planet, there was no way of finding your way back up unless you fully understood transporter technology so you could build a new transporter.

"Let's go lurk in Chekov's little pocket of space as long as we can. Hopefully the _Impala_'s coming up with something because we've got jack-squat. Warp 5, Mr. Sulu. No point in leaving a heavier trail than we have to and making some overly curious Romulan nosy." As Sulu laid in the course, Kirk spun in his chair. "Spock, you've been quiet."

The Vulcan turned away from his station, a curious sort of tension in his shoulders. "I have nothing to contribute, Captain." That might bother Spock, but not enough to shut him up. Spock knew his own admittedly far-reaching boundaries and this situation qualified as a boundary to be scholastically conquered. No, it was something else.

"Spock?"

"Captain, this is a time of extreme delicacy," the Vulcan began with highly uncharacteristic hesitancy. "Commander Winchester has done a very commendable job of limiting his interactions with the Vulcan people."

"But you're afraid that if we're even spotted, we'll have a catastrophic effect on history."

"Captain, I _know_ we will. The struggle between Vulcans and Romulans strayed across a very thin margin and while I cannot condone the actions of the Romulan Empire in our own time, the fact remains that they are an integral part of our society. If we change that, if we destroy enough Romulan ships that the Vulcans manage to keep the Romulan people under control, there may not be a Federation as we know it to return to."

"Hell, we might even cease to exist."

Spock nodded in recognition of his captain's insight. "Indeed. We may never have been born."

"What about the parallel theory?"

"Captain, should we hang the existence of the entire Federation on one theory?"

"And that's why you want us to stay near the anomaly." Kirk rubbed his hands together in contemplation. A thought occurred to him and he eyed his first officer carefully. "Or, if we were really concerned about time, we should just cease to exist ourselves. That would be the safest option."

To his relief, Spock shook his head immediately. "That would not resolve the problem. The Federation is not stable enough for us to completely give up on life. If it existed as a utopia, perhaps our sacrifice would be warranted. But it does not and we should not give up so easily."

Kirk quirked a small grin. "Why Spock, that sounds positively human of you."

Spock's eyebrows arched up visibly. "Captain, there is no need to insult me. My conclusion is highly logical. Shall I expound on it for you?"

"No thanks, Spock. I'll puzzle it out on my own on the way to our destination. It'll make a good brain exercise." He was careful to swallow his smile until he was positive Spock had turned around. No doubt Spock had a very valid argument. Still, Kirk couldn't help noticing that these days, the Vulcan first officer's logic had grown exceedingly flexible when it came to explaining his captain's often illogical adherence to optimistic endings.

* * *

_Los Angeles_

"You're commandeering my ship?" Callen demanded.

Gabriel waggled the little piece of paper. "Look, it's even got the Starfleet stamp of approval. I'd have taken the _Enterprise_ but she's MIA. Careless of Jimmy, really."

Callen exchanged glances with Sam behind the SIO. He nodded and slipped off the bridge. Hetty would scare the snot out of this pretentious jackass and they'd go back to their self-assigned mission of lurking around Admiral Pike's hidden starbase and helping near-by planets run off the ever-populous pirates who had started popping up with alarming regularity now that Starfleet was in shambles.

"Ah-ah-ah," Gabriel waved his hands artfully when the diminutive science officer appeared, her hulking first officer on her heels. "Even the formidable Commander Lang won't be able to get you out of this one, G-man."

Callen clenched his jaw and wondered how the smarmy spy still had all his teeth after meeting the notoriously short-tempered Captain Winchester. "It's Captain Callen and you will show this crew the proper respect."

"Or what?" Gabriel demanded airily.

"Paper or no paper, you can spend several weeks floating around in a life pod before we "accidentally" stumble over you again."

"Ooh, that's dark, _Captain_."

"Supervisory Intelligence Officer Gabriel," Hetty practically snarled, in a very poor mood ever since she'd lost her weekly chess move updates with Admiral Pike when Starfleet collapsed, "you are out. Of. Line."

Gabriel didn't pale, exactly, but he nodded shortly. Messing with Callen was one thing – the worst havoc the former black-ops officer could wreak would end in death. Digging oneself out from under the pile of hell-shit Hetty could bury one under was something else entirely.

"Actually," the SIO began more soberly, "I don't think I would have picked _Enterprise_ even if I could have. This requires a more…balanced view of the world."

"Shades of grey, in other words," Callen smiled humourlessly.

"In other words."

"We don't do that anymore," Sam interrupted, the big first officer planting his feet solidly on the deck in a confrontational stance.

"You will when you hear about the end game," Gabriel reassured him. "We, ladies and gentlemen, are going to save the Federation and leave _Enterprise_ retrieval to the well-motivated _Impala_ while the _Washington _backs them up with orders to split off and hunt down Lucifer should new evidence come to light."

Callen leaned back in his chair, the whole crew surveying the Intelligence Office's dog with wariness. "What exactly is the catch in 'saving the world?'"

Gabriel's smile spread to cherubic proportions. "Why, we're going to kill the Duke of Austria. In a manner of speaking."

Hetty scowled. "World War I. The powder-keg theory. Your masters have ordered us to start a war. In return for losing countless planets and lives, the new threat will galvanize everyone into rallying around the Federation."

Gabriel whistled in admiration. "Sharp as a tack, Commander Lang. Those were the orders. But if it makes you feel better," the twinkle in his eye intensified, "as I said those _were_ my original orders. I managed to wrangle something a little more…flexible out of my superiors. We can manage something that won't offend your freshly scrubbed sensibilities."

Callen had to admit that the SIO was right. This state of affairs couldn't last forever. The Federation was disintegrating into a set of warring planet-states, all too concerned about each other to see the circling wolves.

"What did you have in mind?"

* * *

P.S. I can't promise regular updates like before - wrist strain, ya know, dire warnings about carpal tunnel, etc, etc - but I will do my best not to leave you dangling like that again. Apologies!


End file.
